Yesterday, I turned 28 years old. 28 years old.
I didn’t really expect to celebrate, or really even to acknowledge this day. It’s such a struggle for me to accept and embrace the fact that I am this age – and that I’m getting older every day. I hate the idea of being a cynic, but I can’t deny the fact that a cynic is exactly what I am. I dread my birthdays. It’s a day where I reflect, and convince myself that I haven’t accomplished enough. That I’m single and I shouldn’t be. That I’m broke and I shouldn’t be. Who wants to celebrate a day that just throws all that in their face?
But then things happen.
Things like a crazy night out on the town and shots with people you love. Like a formal birthday dinner by candlelight with people who inspire you. Like four friends sitting in a bed, playing games, watching scary movies and throwing back cocktails to the soundtrack of raucous laughter. Or a surprise party, where a massive group of people turn up to make sure that today – you realize how much you’re really loved.
This weekend was overwhelming in the most positive way possible and there is little I can do to thank the people who made it so special for me. Sitting here reflecting on it, I forget about all the missed opportunities and chances not taken in my adulthood… and instead focus on the fact that I’m surrounded by people who make me incredibly proud. People who made sure that I took the time out to celebrate myself – to let go of my cares and be young and alive. I’m so grateful for my friends and my family, for being shining beacons of light in the occasional darkness. I love you all and everything you do to ensure me that I’m living this life exactly the way I should be.