Today I turn 38 years old. Usually, I don’t celebrate my birthdays, other than going to a somewhat quiet dinner with my family. But this year is different.
Months ago I started planning a birthday party — a George Strait themed party. I bought a life-size cut out of King George, a George Strait cake and cookies. And I set up my daughter’s karaoke machine out on the porch so sing his songs.
I had more fun than I thought I would. I don’t like parties, and I don’t like socializing in big groups. But last night I did.
It kind of makes me sad that I went decades without a party, but I think I just was afraid of being in the spotlight, and I feared that nobody would come. That’s terrible, I know. But it kept me from celebrating for years.
But I want to celebrate myself. I’ve come so far, and I love where I am. I still have more work to do, but who doesn’t? I’m all about growing out of the past versions of me. Growth is so uncomfortable at times, but without it, I’d be that scared little girl who didn’t talk much and didn’t take care of herself. Maybe this isn’t a one-time thing? Maybe I’ve grown into a person who wants to be with her friends and celebrate.
I love my family, friends, house, cats and the work that I do to end stigma of mental illness. I already feel like a pretty perfect version of myself, if there is such thing.
I want to thank all my friends who showed up last night. Who show up for me everyday. Your love and support means so much to me. Y’all are a wonderful blessing. You’re my people.
I’m so grateful.