Birthdays…

I love celebrating my birthday. Always have. I love the anticipation, the build-up, the idea of gathering people I love in one place. I love the cake, the laughter, the chance to be a little extra. And yes, I love the gifts. There, I said it. For years I pretended otherwise, as if admitting I liked presents would somehow make me shallow. But honestly? Screw that. I like receiving. That’s a story for another day, though.

The truth is, I never really asked myself why I love birthdays so much. Then again, maybe not everything in life needs to be psychoanalysed (easier said than done when you’ve been in therapy long enough to overanalyse even your Netflix choices). Some things just are. They flow, they exist, and that’s enough.

Last Wednesday was my birthday. I turned 39. We were on holiday with close friends, four adults, four kids, a beautiful kind of chaos. And for the first time in… well, maybe ever, I didn’t plan a thing. I let the day unfold on its own. For a recovering control freak like me, that was huge. It felt symbolic, like I was making a quiet deal with myself: this last year of my 30s is going to be different.

I want 39 to be about flow. About letting go without losing myself. About maturity, the healthy kind, not the boring kind. I want it to be intentional, slow and meaningful. Less rushing, more living. I want to walk into 40 grounded, accountable and unapologetically myself (still working on that 😀).

And so, I surrendered. My people, my husband, my lovely daughters, and my friends, both close and far away, the ones who love me the most, took over and gave me the most heartfelt celebration. Out in nature, surrounded by beauty at every step. I remember feeling awe, gratitude and this deep awareness of the moment I was in. Like, this is it. This is life.

I’ve lived a lot in these 39 years. Sometimes it feels like I’ve lived four or five different lives already. Maybe that meme on Instagram was right: millennials look like they’re 20 but feel like they’re 80. God, I feel that. Tired, yes. But also… seasoned.

So here I am, stepping into the last year of my 30s with a dramatic flourish (because of course I am). My heart is full of love, gratitude, and this craving to sloooow down. To actually feel like I’m living my life, not just sprinting through it.

Here’s to 39. Here’s to what’s coming. And here’s to making it to 100, because honestly, that’s the plan.

Much love,
Anca