For the past week our feeds have been filled with the aging challenge, usually marking 10 years. I know I’m supposed to post an old pic with an implied critique of my skin and overall aesthetic along with a deprecative comment on my eyebrows, but that holds zero interest to me (Sagittarius here ). I’m more interested in who I was, not what I looked like. So:
Ten years ago I was living in Seattle, at a crossroads, faced with an impossible decision. I chose me. This is loaded with so many things you can’t understand, and while there is pain and grief and guilt tied to that choice, there is zero regret. I am so grateful I chose me. I’m so proud of the person I’ve become. It’s been a fucking rocky road that I’ve navigated without a guide, making shit up as I go along out of necessity and survival (and trust, I’ve made some pretty awful decisions along the way) But I’m still here, and that’s no small thing.
Since I don’t have a healthy example of aging, to me every gray hair and smile line is a triumph — evidence of a life lived and still in motion. So this is me: who I am now, leaning hard into who I want to become; forgiving and thanking and releasing all the broken versions of me that got me where I am today.