Simply, 25
I felt a wave of imposter syndrome crash ashore as I stared out at the glossy ocean.
As a true Cancerian who can spend long hours staring at the ocean, maybe there is a part of me that loves to be so clearly reflected by that endless vastness in front of me and the melancholy that follows.
Every year, my birthday consists of a familiar ritual: a long day at the beach with my family, lingering together until the sun begins to sink into the horizon. Most years, the busy rhythm of the day is enough to keep the birthday gloomies at bay. Last year, I managed to do just that.
But turning twenty-five felt different.
There is something significant about stepping into your mid-twenties. It feels like standing in the in-between—no longer at the beginning, but not quite where you imagined you’d be. As I sat by the water, I found myself wondering if this life I get to live truly belongs to me. This love I get to experience... how did it find its way into my lap? For a moment, I felt disconnected from my own reality, almost as if I were watching someone else’s life unfold.
Growing older is such an extraordinary privilege, one that so many people never get to experience. To grow older with a healthy body and a willing spirit is a gift I never want to take for granted.
And yet, pessimism has a way of clouding my ability to receive that gift. It convinces me that I need to earn joy before I’m allowed to fully experience it. More than ever, turning twenty-five made me realize that it doesn’t matter how beautiful your life looks from the outside if you can’t allow yourself to be present enough to truly live it.
Presence is so much of life.
Mine felt painfully thin that day.
I’ve always placed quiet expectations on my birthdays, hoping I’ll feel overwhelmingly grateful, inspired, or transformed. When I don’t, I leave feeling disappointed that such a meaningful day was blurred by my own thoughts. We spend so much of our lives digging for significance that we forget the simple act of being alive is significant enough.
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I want it to be the year I choose peace over pressure, presence over perfection, and lightness over the weight of expectations. I want to laugh more freely, hope more deeply, and trust that I don’t have to constantly prove I’m worthy of the life I’ve been given.
As someone who loves to share her heart with others, I’ve spent a long time afraid of letting people get too close to my truest thoughts. Maybe it’s self-protection. Maybe it’s the fear of disappointment, or of being judged for feeling too deeply.
But the truth is, the softest parts of my heart are also the truest parts of who I am.
For twenty-five, I will simply be. I won’t resist the water-like spirit that flows through me.
With love,
x