A note on endings and beginnings:
Tomorrow is my birthday. I will be 29 years old, which sometimes seems like a victory in itself (but not usually). Around this time, like around the first of the year, I start thinking about the beginnings of things and what that means. What it means to be able to feel like you are starting over because of the way the date changed, when nothing else really has. And I like that. I like it a lot. I like the idea of new starts and restarts and second chances and third chances, sometimes (when you need them).
The beginnings of things are so full of promise and life and hope that you can forget that they are not always so full of joy. Because unless you are literally being born, something else has ended. Beginnings do not come for free. They are wrenched from that thing that has just stopped. Maybe it was who you were, or a stage in your life, or a school, or a relationship, or simply a calendar year, like so many others.
So in the same way that I (at least try very hard to) love New Year’s Eves and Mondays and breakups and graduations, I love birthdays. Like all those endings and beginnings, birthdays are your own personal new start to do anything you want with. And with that in mind, I choose to begin the final year of my 20s with forgiveness and the realization that we are all doing the best we can. While there are many people who I would hope forgive me my many faults and a much smaller number who might ask that I forgive them (which I do, wholeheartedly), my birthday begins with forgiving myself, moving on, and remembering that we are all (myself included) doing the best that we can with what we have.
So to the final 365 days of my twenties I say: It’s. Fucking. On. Now.
Let’s be wild and free and happy and love each other and explore and adventure and make things and do things and remember that some things end, some things begin, and that is absolutely ok and beautiful.