Today I am 36. Happy freaking birthday to me. And while most 30 something adults cringe at the passing of another year, I am happy to kiss that number goodbye. I would like 35 to be filed away in long term memory, only to be recalled at a later date and time of my own choosing.

Because 35, you were a bitch.

But I woke up this morning feeling different. More awake. More like myself. I went to bed last night and said my final goodbyes to 35 and promised myself that when I awoke, 36 would greet me with open arms. And you know what? Mindset is a powerful thing. So I set my mind right and closed my eyes.

This morning, I got up, took a long, hot shower, and slathered on some fancy lotion. I slipped on one of Ryan’s old shirts, because he’s away on a fire strike team and I miss him. I made a cup of hot coffee, went into my new office, in my new home, in my new state, and I did what I have been craving to do for months. I wrote.

You may or may not have noticed my sizeable absence. I quite literally ghosted all forms of social media. No status updates, no new blog posts, no new news to share. And while there was plenty of news happening in my life, my heart, and my gut, told me that social media was not the place to share it at that time. So people mostly thought I was either dying or getting a divorce. Neither of which was remotely close, but when there’s no story to read, a story is still told.

This blog post isn’t about rehashing every moment, it’s about self reflection and the lessons I learned from each struggle. But more so, it’s about the most important birthday gift I am giving myself this year.

Grace.

As women, we tend to offer grace to everyone else. Our friends, our children, our spouses. We offer them unconditional love and forgiveness. So why are we so hesitant to offer it to ourselves? We hold on to doubt about our decisions, question our ability to care for our family, place blame on our shoulders when those around us aren’t happy. And then we carry on. We march forward with our heads held high and a smile on our face, even when our hearts are breaking. Because we place everyone else’s needs above our own, and then we shame ourselves when we begin to fall apart.  

35, you brought a lot of heartache. But you also brought wisdom and growth that cannot be found in a book. It can only be lived, and felt, and then triumphed over.

35 brought the loss of one of the strongest women I know to a disease that couldn’t be stopped. It came and stole the last breath from her. Quiet and quick…but I learned that faith has no bounds and that there is joy in knowing that she is free of pain, forever alive and at peace.

35 brought what most parents would consider the unimaginable. The kind of pain that hurts your soul. The kind of pain that was felt over and over as it played out publicly…on the news, on social media, everywhere…but I learned that when your world falls apart, beautiful souls surround you with love, prayer, and strength. They wrap you in their arms and shield you, lift you, and offer you a whole lot of grace that you aren’t giving yourself.

35 brought a broken child that had to be put back together…but I learned that there is an unshakable strength that comes with motherhood. That we as mothers are limitless in our abilities to place our children first and carry them through storms. I learned to look in my sweet girl’s eyes and know that there is no battle I wouldn’t fight for her.

35 brought anger at God and allowing hatred for the individuals who tore my sweet family apart to consume every part of me. And while I am not proud, 35 brought nights I prayed for their demise…but I learned that forgiveness doesn’t mean pardoning one’s actions. It doesn’t mean that they do not deserve consequences. It means taking your hands off of their throat and dismissing their power over your life. Recognizing that they are God’s problem to reconcile. Not mine. I also learned that God doesn’t control the terrible actions of individuals. It’s their own free will. But God sure as hell sees the path ahead and places things before us to see us through.  

35 meant losing a father to addiction…but I learned to embrace every emotion and remind myself that each one is justified. That there is no “right” way to grieve. I learned to hold tight to the good memories.  

35 brought a delayed move and a brand new house that sat empty…but I learned that material possessions are very trivial and you can go a lot longer than you think, with a lot less than what you think you need when your life is tucked away in storage. And that mom will always let you come back home.  

35 brought me an extra 25 pounds when I ate my feelings over and over…but I learned that the answer to my problems wouldn’t be found at the bottom of a bottle. Or a fancy champagne glass. However, I would like to add that I would have taken wrinkles over pounds…but hey, there’s always the gym I love so much, right?

35 brought a giant step back in a business and a blog I worked incredibly hard to build…but I learned that I am the only one who decides when and how to rebuild those two things. That the impossible is always possible. And that Rachel Hollis is absolutely correct when she says that no one gets to tell me how big my dreams can be.

So yeah, 35, I think we can part ways.

Recently, my sweet mother-in-law sent me a devotion on heartbreak. It talked about how God draws near to those with a broken heart and fills in the cracks, reminding us that we are never alone in our heartbreak. And so this year, I am giving myself the gift of grace. I’m offering myself strength when I am weak, forgiveness when I make mistakes. I’m lifting the weight of guilt when I cannot make everything perfect. And when I am heartbroken, I will not sit alone in my sadness…I will allow my faith and those I love to fill in the cracks. For those that stood by us, your love and support did not go unnoticed. It is because of you that we made it through and we will never be able to thank you enough. You are some of my strongest anchors.

So with that, cheers to a new birth year. If your path is one of heartbreak, let the cracks be filled, let your anchors hold you in your storm, ask for help, let yourself grieve, but most of all…give yourself some grace.

Oh, and 36…please don’t be a bitch.

Xoxo,

Meg