BIRTHDAY

✖️ ON TURNING 45 ✖️

I’ve never been one for birthdays.If anything, I’m the birthday Grinch, silently questioning the significance of a single day in a life full of days. Why pour meaning into the calendar when every day could be extraordinary if we let it?

Birthdays, New Year’s Eve — all those “big” dates — they’ve never felt monumental to me. Perhaps it’s the little rebel in my heart, resisting the weight of tradition. Or maybe it’s because most birthdays, with a few rare exceptions, have been more stressful than joyful. To avoid disappointment, I’ve learned to expect little from this day.

As a woman, birthdays can carry a peculiar weight. Each new number feels like a whisper from society, reminding us of our supposed expiration date. Sometimes I feel at ease being 45, grateful for the years I’ve lived and the wisdom I’ve gathered. Other times, the number feels heavy, like a shadow reminding me I’ve crossed into a different kind of “visibility.”

There’s a quiet fear that comes with realizing you’re in the middle of the story. You wonder how many chapters are left, balancing the dread of time slipping away with the thrill of knowing there’s still so much more to write.

✖️ THE BODY THAT HOLDS ME ✖️

On birthdays, I often reflect on my body. It has given life, carried me through storms, and remained, at its core, healthy. Yet some days, it’s hard to honor the vessel that holds my soul. Growing up surrounded by images of unattainable beauty — skinny supermodels with hollow cheeks and endless legs — left a deep mark.

At 45, the echoes of that perfection still haunt me. My body reminds me of the passage of time in subtle aches and shifting lines. Some days, I see it for the miracle it is; other days, it feels like a betrayal.

I once met a woman in a bookstore, older than me by a few years. She told me that aging as a woman is freeing because, eventually, no one notices you anymore. Her words didn’t comfort me. They felt like an elegy to invisibility, a resignation to being forgotten.

I don’t want to chase eternal youth — that’s a trap with no escape. But I also don’t want to surrender to irrelevance. There must be a balance, a way to embrace who I am now without fading into the background or clinging desperately to the past.

✖️ A NEW YEAR, A NEW BALANCE ✖️

Perhaps this year, I’ll find that balance.The courage to accept this new version of myself, to make peace with the changes my body and soul are going through.

There’s beauty in aging, but only if we reclaim it on our own terms. I want to face the next 45 years — or more (because I’m convinced I’ll live to 102) — with joy, curiosity, and strength.

There’s no room for bitterness here, no space for fear. Only the determination to honor what I’ve built, who I’ve become, and what still lies ahead.

Because this year, I am not invisible.I am not fading.I am rising — and the story is far from over.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY to myself !!! 🖤