Turning 32

Turning 32 feels less like a celebration and more like a deep exhale.

I’ve been ready to leave 31 behind—not to be dramatic, or to insinuate that it was all bad, I feels like a relief to be done with the last year.

Grief was (and still often is) inescapable. I had to learn that you just get better at carrying it, and that everyone goes through this, multiple times throughout our lives. I had to process feelings I was hiding in the furthest corner of my self conscious. I experienced regressions and positive evolutions, and while (I guess) I am grateful for both, I didn’t ask for this.

And what I wanted didn’t come in the pace or timeline I asked for. Instead, I was given task after task that challenged me. Which, now that I have taken some deep breaths on the other side of it, I realize help be me exactly who gets the things that I want. So while it sounds like I am complaining, I am grateful, but 31 had me reaching for metaphorical cigarettes even though I can’t stand the smell/taste.

Back to this year, the pains of grief shaped it. And while from the outside I may have looked put together (often mid-laugh, drink in hand, even if it’s a mocktail), and always have a funny story or antidote to tell, I learned that I could crumble, and it would be okay.

My relationships over the last year are the silver lining. Old and new friends really held me when I needed it most. I’m deeply grateful for the people who held space for me in the messy parts, and for the version of myself that kept showing up, even when all I did was go on a walk or drink water.

Who knew I would be crying on Figueroa St at a Taco Stand on a Friday night in June? Or say goodbye to labels that I outgrew. Who knew I would sign my biggest client contract to date or go to Michoacán with a girl I went on 2 dates with for her mom’s 60th birthday party? It was a challenging year, but it wasn’t all bad.

Somewhere in the midst of all all the grey, heavy fog, I started to become someone I really like. I see things differently now. I trust myself more. I’ve learned how to find joy in small wins—a walk in good weather, a great juice, a quiet Monday. I’ve learned that happiness doesn’t always announce itself with fireworks; sometimes it’s just the absence of dread.

There’s also the day-to-day stuff, since milestones are a good time to catch people up. I’m still living in East LA, and it’s starting to feel like real home. Someone recently told me it seems like I’ve managed to create deep friendships here—something that can be hard to do in a new city, let alone this one—and that meant a lot. I’m closer to my family than I’ve ever been. I love being an aunt. I love my work, my clients, my mentors, my network.

Speaking of work: I now fully consider myself both a web designer and a copywriter. The copywriting side of my business especially has taken off in a way I’m proud of. It feels good to name and claim that. The business is strong, and I’m clear on how I want to grow it.

So while I’m calling this my "glow-up year," it’s not about reinvention. It’s about continuing to build on who I’ve become—and doing it with more ease, more care, and more presence.

Here’s to another lap around the sun, and the quiet kind of magic that comes from just staying with yourself. I’d ask for more ease and less lessons… but that doesn’t sound like me at all.

Grateful for this weird and magical life, even on the hardest of days.
Which I hope (for the love of whatever you believe in) are mostly behind me.