It’s your birthday. Today, you turn another year older and, I know, you’ll message me and ask me for some wisdom of turning this year old. 29? 29. Here’s what I’ll tell you…
29 was the year I learnt about courage. You see, as you know, 29 was the year I learnt to be brave with my heart, by force and not by choice. 29 was a year where I began to be rewarded for that courage. 29 was the year that a dream walked into my life, at a time when I had all but given up on dreams.
29 was the year I had to face some cold, hard facts about my life. I truly got a grasp on what I wanted from my life, in my life and running through my life. I got honest about my heart, my desires and I became unafraid to speak about those desires. It was that final courage that forced my life towards where it is today.
I learnt that my mother was dying, and she did, just before 29 ended for me. I discovered that almost everything in my life I considered a certainty, was everything but certain. I watched, helpless, as things happened between people close to me, that I never imagined possible, plausible or real. Things, situations, beliefs, dreams, words…they all unraveled around me…
29 was the year that I fell apart, only to be recreated.
I see you, now. Hitting that 29. And I see so much of the same thing happening, in many different respects. I see you recreating your life, for yourself. I see you taking the first steps, bold as they are, into truly learning who you and what you’re about, on your own terms.
This is not an easy process. If anything, it’s the scariest one you’ll encounter. If life is like a piece of wood, you’ve just begun to carve your own shape into it. 29 is that precipice before 30, and I swear to you, even though this is really.hard.work, the magnificence of 30 will be worth it. Remember that fantastic, hilarious photo of me with the balloons and the wide grin at my 30th? Yeah, that. Keep that in your head, because it will soon be you.
Keep your hope, keep your faith, and please, please keep on believing.
When things got hard once, a few years back, we talked about how we would build us a fortress, to shut the world out, play only our favourite songs, bung in some broadband and survive on a diet of Marie biscuits and tea. How funny, then, that you’re building a fortress of your very own, created on foundations that you’re moulding yourself.
This will be your bravest year.
Remember, though, you do not have to be brave alone.