In exactly one week I will enter the last year of my twenties. After spending most of my life always wanting to be older, because I’ve always felt so much older than I really am, for the first time in my life I feel a slight twinge of anxiety over becoming a year older. My previous goals of what I wanted to accomplish by 30 and where I’d be in life – like have kids and maybe own something – are so different from what I think is possible now, so I can’t help but I feel a bit of a fire lit under my ass to work harder at being where I want to be. I momentarily (like, 20 times this year) thought that maybe I had to give up this freelance hustle to be a more responsible adult for my future, but I reject that with 1,000 karate chops inside of my heart. Never has the notion that “if an opportunity doesn’t present itself to you, make one” meant more to me than right now. But besides all that, I’ve never loved life more than right now, moments of worry and all. Reflecting on who I was just a handful of years ago, I feel no anxiety over how much wiser I get with each year. All the new and wonderful people that enter my life. How even the worst things* that happen can teach you how to be a better person.
I feel more ambitious than ever, ready to grow. Twenty-nine, let’s do this.
Let’s also take this opportunity to indulge in being wanty. An imaginary wish list of beautiful things, pictured above.
necklace: Palomarie | beaded plant hanger: AMRadio | sunnies: Karen Walker | bag: Benah | windchimes: Caravan Pacific | boots: Sam Edelman
*It’s been one year(!) since Will’s diagnosis and I owe you all a post on how he’s doing. Soon, soon. Short answer: ace.