It’s my birthday (everyone say happy birthday)! I’m officially in my mid-twenties.
I find birthdays intimidating; there’s so much pressure resting on them to be a quick measure of yearly progress. Look on social media, speak to your friends, ask your parents— everyone has an opinion about when you should be doing things. Although life is the longest thing any of us will ever experience, it feels all too short when I look at everything I want to become and compare it to everything I currently am. I’ve definitely made progress, but is it enough to make sure I cross the finish line satisfied?
I’m a birthday crier. I cry from the pressure I place squarely on my chest, pinning me to my bed in the morning. I also cry from gratitude and delight. Clearly, I’m emotional on my birthday, and I don’t blame myself for it one bit. Waking up and symbolically turning the page of your story to a whole new chapter is both exciting and dreadful. I have to ask myself questions like, compared to my last birthday, am I happier turning 24? Was I everything I hoped to be at 23?
I can confidently say I’m ready to leave 23 behind, but I’m still (begrudgingly) grateful I got to experience it. Even with all the challenges, I have begun to settle into the adult label I’ve been claiming for myself since I turned 18. I sleep soundly with the answers to questions that used to keep me up all night. If I don’t have some answers, I’m more comfortable waiting to see which lessons come crashing into me and which ones gently tap me on the shoulder.
I’m not going to recount to you all the lessons I learned at 23; there’s a lot, and you can find them in any number of blog posts or therapy sessions. I also don’t want to sink into my nostalgia, lest I be more consumed by memories than by anticipation. I think 23 can be summed up in three words: ‘well, alright then.’ Maybe not the most eloquent summation, but it captures the begrudging acceptance of what I have witnessed in my latest jaunt around the sun. Nothing so terrible that it could not be overcome, especially with the love I am so easily surrounded by if I just get the courage to ask.
I am blessed to have my whole life to improve on who I was before turning 24, just like I’ll have the rest of my life to improve on who I will be before turning 25.
My gut instinct is to draw a line in the sand between my previous self (silly young 23-year-old me) and my new self (wise old 24-year-old me). I know that’s preposterous. I am only 24 hours older than yesterday. I also know that anyone older than 24 is reading this, laughing at my naivety; “you think 24 is wise and old? You don’t know anything yet,” and it’s true, I don’t. But I want to. I want to grow into the best version of myself, and I am! With each birthday that passes, I feel myself inching towards the Simone that fulfills my aspirations.
I have a tradition where, on my birthday, I write myself a letter to read exactly one year later on my next birthday. The letter is usually divided into two parts: where am I today, and where do I hope to be tomorrow? The first part is always straightforward: family, friends, love, school, hobbies, health. The second part requires a lot more deliberation. I try not to put pressure on myself, but looking to the future can become restrictive if I don’t follow certain guidelines. My wants and needs will fluctuate massively over the next year, so there’s no sense in writing things like “I will read 15 books”. I’ll save that to be my New Year’s resolution. My letter is for my eyes only, so I will only write about things I can achieve on my own. There are other rules too: stay abstract, stay forgiving, stay positive. If you’re feeling particularly ambitious, be generous with the word “more.” Don’t write on days when you don’t love yourself.
Before I look to the future, I always peek into my past. Here’s a snippet from the last letter I wrote: “I’m an adult, but becoming a more real one each month. With that comes new anxieties, but I am trying to focus on the good… I have a lot of fears and hope for the future, some things I miss, and a lot of ideas on how to live my life.”
Already, I can feel myself becoming self-important. What did this fresh 23-year-old, without this past year’s experiences, know about the world? Still, I have to remember to be proud of her. She knew enough to write that letter, whether the contents still reflect who she is today or not.
Now that that letter is done, it’s time to write a new one. This begs the question: when I wake up barely 24 years old, what are my expectations for myself?
I want to be the person I needed as a child, the person I admired as a teenager, the person I seek out today. I am expanding outward into new spaces, lighting up the room as if I carried the sun in my arms. I will be kind, but not so kind as to forget my own value. I will be confident, able to take up space unapologetically. I will be healthy, not just in body but in mind. I will change, but do it at my own pace and ignore anyone who tries to rush me. I will be curious about people, places, and stories. Most importantly, I will infect everything I touch with love and joy.
How do you do these things? Start small. Use more lemons. Write more postcards. Take more pictures. Smile at strangers. Wander down side streets. Eat more colours. Dabble in art. Take up space. Host more dinner parties. Write in my journal. Ask more questions. Volunteer my time. Be more present.
I want to do all of this, not just tomorrow but every day. It’s a choice I make when I wake up, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes as I become more than I was yesterday.
Happy birthday! I can’t wait to see who I become tomorrow.
Simone Brown 