Recently I celebrated my birthday, and I was thinking about the journey I have been on as each birthday has come around.
Birthdays used to feel like milestones I was racing toward, with markers of accomplishment or evidence that I was somehow keeping up the pace with life. But this year felt different from every other year. This year, I found myself sitting quietly, listening to the distant rhythm of the ocean and reflecting on how much has changed within me.
Anyone who knows me, knows that I love being by the ocean. I am drawn to the water. For me, it is like a nautical antidote that calms my mind, providing a quiet reflection. It is where I feel I can best connect with my inner self.
The sea inside my heart has been restless for as long as I can remember. Waves of expectation were always crashing against the shore of who I thought I should be. I have spent years trying to become someone worthy of love, approval, and belonging. I chased versions of myself that were shaped by the opinions of others, believing that acceptance was something I had to earn.
But this year, it was different. The ocean began to calm. If you have ever been by the ocean during a storm, you will see how calm and peaceful it becomes afterwards. The ocean doesn’t stop being an ocean when it’s calm. It simply learns another way to express its power.
The calm did not come because life became easier, but because I learned how to stop fighting every tide. I learned that peace does not arrive when everything around us is perfect. It arrives when we stop abandoning ourselves in pursuit of perfection because truthfully, none of us are perfect. I found another way to express my power. The power I hold within, to have control over my life without the outside noise of others.
As my birthday approached and I reflected on another year of life, I imagined painting a self-portrait. Not the kind that captures every detail with flawless precision, but one that tells the truth. The one where I can look upon it in years to come and remind myself of this time in my life. In this portrait, there would be visible brushstrokes of layers painted over old versions of myself. It would display places where mistakes became texture and growth became color.
I would paint the woman who survived seasons she once thought would break her. The woman who learned that self-compassion is not weakness but courage. Courage to embrace the woman I am and give her the love, care and attention that she deserves. The woman who finally speaks to herself with gentleness no matter the noise around her.
In the details, there would be shades of grief in the portrait, because my losses are not just about loved ones, it is about losing time, energy, moments and self-love. There would be colors of joy, because happiness has found me in unexpected places. There would be soft variations of blues and whites, representing grace. The kind of grace that arrives when we realize we are not required to have everything figured out.
Most importantly, there would be space.
Space where I once crowded myself with obligations. Space where I once allowed the needs of others to eclipse my own. Space that now holds healthy and strong boundaries.
One of the greatest lessons of my journey has been understanding that love is not always demonstrated by staying. Sometimes love requires leaving. Leaving those who don’t show humility or make you feel like you owe them something. Love is not something that is owed, it is shared unconditionally.
Sometimes grace requires walking away. Walking away from relationships that demand we betray ourselves. Family, friends, business, it doesn’t matter because nothing is off the table when it comes to setting boundaries.
Walking away from places that no longer nurture our growth is not selfish. It is necessary. Walking away from habits, expectations, and versions of ourselves that no longer fit are critical to the healing. All of these actions are an act of profound self-respect.
As I sat down to the first brushstroke of the portrait of who I am becoming, I was deeply drawn into the focus of the details, and the memories of the years that have gone by. I began to paint away the ones whom I have had to walk away from. Every goodbye has made room for a more honest hello. Every step away from what diminished me has been a step toward what nourishes me. I am no longer looking back, but forward.
As I look forward to the years ahead, I do not wish for a life without storms. The ocean will always have a variation of waves, high and low tides, hurricanes and constant change along the shore. Instead, I hope for the wisdom to trust myself when it comes. I hope to continue choosing love over fear, grace over judgment, and compassion over criticism.
I hope to keep painting. Not toward perfection, but toward authenticity.
And as another birthday has passed, I find myself grateful. Not for having arrived at some final destination, because my journey is far from over, but for the journey itself. For the calm that follows the storm. For the courage to walk away when necessary. For the love that begins within. And for the beautiful, unfinished portraits that will continue to emerge with every passing year.
Peace, Love & Happiness
Christian ♥
The Sun Will Set To Rise 