One Year’s Time

Yesterday was my 29th birthday. At 2:22pm, I had successfully survived 29 years on this planet, and began my 30th year. But, decades don’t begin with 0’s and end with 9’s, so I won’t be officially out of my 20s until my next birthday. This year—completing my 20s and beginning my 30s simultaneously—is in that no man’s land of betwixt and between. And I find myself once again standing on a threshold.

Next year when I turn 30, there will be five years that separate me and that younger, lost version of myself that was so afraid of never figuring out who she was and what she wanted to do in this world. It feels like many more years than four have passed. Next year it will feel like many more than that.

I have grown so much since I began my crisis of constitution and I am proud of myself. But, when I think about my goals, I realize how much I was leaving to fate by “just plain surviving your twenties.” That mentality was coming from a place of crisis, and couldn’t perceive clearly. 

I don’t want to end my twenties feeling like I survived. That’s not good enough. That’s no where near good enough. 

A few months ago, a word began circling in my head. And now, it pulses like a drum beat.

Try.

Sometimes, it intensifies.

Try Harder.

These are the mantras for my 29th year.

To more than just survive, I need motivation and persistence, which are not always easy to sustain. If you want something, you have to try. If you really want it, you have to try harder.

I’m going to see what I can accomplish when I try. It’s going to be a motivational marathon. 

Why just survive when you can flourish?

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