Fresh Eyes
Photo by Nick Owuor (astro.nic.visuals) on Unsplash
When I was in my late 20s, the story I told myself was one that was as ugly as it was untrue. I was approaching a new decade of life single and childless, and I had convinced myself that I was a failure. I told myself I couldn’t even be in America to celebrate my 30th birthday – I had to be somewhere else – anywhere else – to endure a new decade of life still single.
I was embarrassed that most of my friends had settled into serious relationships and marriages and were starting to have kids, while I seemed to fail again and again at dating. I told myself these friends had more important things to do than travel with me for my birthday.
So, I didn’t invite any of them.
Instead, I made plans with three single friends I wasn’t as close with to join me in Costa Rica for the celebration. I packed my bags to embrace a new country, new experiences, and a new chapter of life. I can still hear the voice in my head so clearly, insisting that this was the only way to get through my birthday.
And while there were some beautiful moments in that trip, it was hard to outrun and outtravel the noise in my own head. It was hard not to be with my friends who had been so entwined in my life for so long. I wasn’t secure enough in who I was or the friendships I’d made to even suggest it to them.
What’s ironic is while I was devastated to enter my 30s unwed, it never occurred to me I might meet the same fate entering my 40s. I struggle to imagine what that insecure 29-year-old version of me would have done if she knew that a decade later, she would reach her next milestone birthday in very much the same state - still unmarried, still childless, still renting. I wonder if the new story I’d be telling myself would be that I was facing another 10 years of struggle and heartache, and it seemed my luck would only get worse in my 30s.
And how incredibly wrong I would be, yet again.
In the past 10 years, I’ve quieted the negative self-talk and leaned into deep breaths, yoga, traveling, and most of all, incredible, life-changing friendships. I’ve learned to own my story, even if it’s not one I ever imagined telling. Romantic love has come and gone from my life, but the love of friends and family has never wavered. And in my experience, we overinflate romantic love and underappreciate so many other forms of love that are just as powerful and meaningful. We chase a love that eludes us while failing to appreciate the love of so many incredible people who never stop showing up for us.
In the time since that trip to Costa Rica, I didn’t change my last name.
Instead, I changed my entire life.
I learned to show up beautifully for my friends and allowed them to do the same for me. I attended birthday parties and weddings, baby showers and pity parties and I invited friends to my shining moments and gave them a front-row seat to my darkest moments. I started wine nights, wrote Christmas letters and poured my heart into connections with friends. I was vulnerable and raw and, at times, ugly and hurtful. I learned to say sorry and continue to work on letting go. But through it all, I was real and authentic and let my light shine for anyone willing to soak it up.
“It’s like I got brand new eyes
And I can finally see
What has always been
Right there in front of me
And with these brand-new eyes
I’ll take in everything
And I will finally see me.”
For my 40th birthday, I invited friends who knew me through and through. I didn’t run away to another country but embraced what I’ve come to know I love – cabins in nature filled with my favorite people. I invited friends who celebrated my wins over the years and shared in my losses. The people I could text and say “I’m not okay” and know that they would help me through it – even if it only meant listening. I raised my glass to these incredible humans in the middle of nowhere, Missouri, and was grateful to have found so many people who filled my heart and brought out the best in me. Who believed in me and made me feel like the best and shiniest version of myself.
Back in my new city, new friends celebrated me and threw me my first-ever surprise party. Texts and posts and cards poured in, and my heart soared. I was nowhere near what my 29-year-old self would have deemed a successful life, but my 40-year-old self was proud of the life I’d built; imperfect, flawed, and truly wonderful. While romantic love has not been as easy for me as others, my friendships have come through for me and then some.
My heart was on fire as I turned the page to a new chapter and a new decade. I felt seen and loved and valued and worthy. The story I tell myself has changed, and the words I tell myself are true – and I believe them wholeheartedly.
I am loved.
My life is beautiful.
I have supported and encouraged.
I am connected.
I am enough.
I think for many of us, life isn’t at all what we expected. We aren’t where we thought we’d be. Our paths have taken turns we weren’t expecting, and our timelines aren’t what we had in mind for things to fall into place. There may have been darker moments and more trying times than we’d anticipated or imagined. But when I really look closely, and let go of what I expected to happen and embrace what did, there is so much to be thankful for.
A part of me still wonders what the next 10 years will bring. But a wiser part of me knows if I continue to pour myself into those who love me, whether platonic or romantic, life will continue to be both bright and beautiful.
And that knowing is enough for me today.