11/18/2025
Welp *slaps thighs* today is my bday.
Whenever I start to write my annual post, every year, I never know where to start. This year isn't any different and if anything, it's harder than ever to put into words what the last year has been for me.
I've been through what feels like a thousand different versions of myself in the past twelve months, landing finally somewhere today between weathered and vibrant. I have cried so hard and I have laughed just as hard, all of it leaving me breathless over and over and over again. I've spent so much time with myself, getting to know who I am better than ever; through movement, through breath, through shifting tides in art. I've been frantic and calm and supportive and withdrawn and funny and heartbroken, all at once. I've said "f**k it" more than once and I have for sure pouted about wrinkles more than I'd ever care to admit.
I have felt the duality this year intensely. As it turns out, the messiest I've ever been is also the most open I've been. I've never felt quite so raw and vulnerable and yet so intensely soft...incredibly capable of receiving great love, even while feeling so incredibly undeserving of it.
So. Here's 42. I have no idea what I'm doing or who I have yet to become, meeting each version of my self with as much tenderness and grace as I can muster.
I don't know much, but I am so sure of myself. I keep showing up for me. I am sure that my joy is resilient and even when on days when I'm positive it's been permanently stripped, it pops up again in the small things.
I am sure that people believe in me and more than often, more than I could ever believe in myself. I am sure that I am deeply loved, even in every rapidly shifting form. I am sure that I am held and so very tightly.
Ilysm. Thank you for being here; this year and every year.