Hope for Single People and 2025 so far

Sunday was my birthday.

Another year older— but how?! It feels insane to say my age out loud. I can’t believe that number applies to me.

I feel 24. Maybe 26, on a bad day. Time clearly does not keep up with me. It’s insane how youthful I feel. This might sound like denial, but it’s not. It’s ease.

I don’t enjoy aging. We’re all supposed to call it a privilege or a blessing—and sure, of course—but I’m not about to sit here and pretend I like it. I’m vain. I like looking young, feeling young, doing young things. That’s just the truth.

I like the wisdom and clarity that come with age, the way I feel grounded in who I am. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to be 23 again. At the same time, I want a family in the coming years. Those two ideas shouldn’t align, but they do!

This year, the birthday anxiety isn’t hitting the way it usually does. It’s tradition to spiral!

I think I’m “fine” because:

1. There’s a new man in my life so I’m very distracted.

2. I’ve grown—a lot.

3. My recent ayahuasca experience (if you read that post, you know) gave me some clarity. I feel like I know things I didn’t know before. Things about myself. Things about time. I feel calm.

   

And about the new guy—it’s someone I actually like, which feels, like, impossible!?