That was my 25th birthday, which was arguably the best birthday I have ever had. I was surrounded by about 20 amazing friends, we went to dinner at my favorite restaurant, and then we spent the rest of the night drinking, playing pool, and just loving life.
That girl was excited and full of life. She was just about to finally graduate from college, and in a few months she would be making a life changing move to Alaska. She had dreams and plans and no reason to think that any of them wouldn’t come true.
She was happy.
Possibly the happiest she had ever been before or since.
She drank a bit too much that night (and admittedly, not just that night - that year and the years prior were drinking years), and towards the end there she may have had issues holding up her own head, but she was happy.
She had no worries.
No fears.
Her life was full of stress. She was working 20 hours a week at a very busy bar in Pacific Beach, San Diego and she was also taking 30 credits at San Diego State University. She had very little time to kick back and relax, but when she got that time she relished in those moments. She enjoyed every second.
And she was happy.
This girl didn’t sweat the small stuff (although, she was clearly still obsessed with her own chest!) She didn’t worry about the future and all that could or could not go wrong; she just enjoyed the here and now. She was surrounded by incredible friendships that most women are never lucky enough to find.
She was happy.
A year later she was not. She canceled her own birthday plans at the last minute after getting into a fight with her best friend about her infertility struggles (as said friend rubbed her newly pregnant belly – it would be lying to say that jealousy did not play a part in that fight), and checked into a spa by herself. She spent the day splurging on treatments she couldn’t afford and being pampered, but she still wasn’t happy. She was terrified about what the future held with her first surgery only weeks away. She felt alone and broken and lost.
This year (and every year from here on out) I want to be more like that first girl. I want to remind myself to be happy. I want to remember how to be carefree.
I don’t really want to drink as much as that girl (the years for that kind of obnoxiousness have passed!), but I want to be more like her. Every day, I want to remember how that girl lived her life.
I want to be the girl who hasn’t yet let infertility and endo break her.
The one who smiles without effort.
The one who has hopes and dreams for the future that she doesn’t fear will be taken away.
The one who laughs with ease and loves freely.
Starting now, I want to be more like this girl.
