Every year around this time of year I start to look back on the past year of my life and start to take into account things that happened, where I’ve been, what I’ve done, and maybe who I think I’ve become over a year of life.

I turned 34 in California around my Orange County family. I turned 34 with some weighty statements inside myself that I carried from the new year.
I turned 34 with margaritas and sparkles.

I’ve been trying to, amidst all that is going on in the world and in my head and outside my front door, spin up what I’ve learned this year.
And really I just don’t know.
Honestly.

I’ve been trying to figure it out. I’ve been trying to read over past words and letter board statements and everything in between.

Here are some things I know:

I know without questions I have people that love me.
I know, with maybe some question, that I am really good at what I do because I do my job out of exactly what I am.
I know, without question, that I still face disappointment and failure and heartache.
I know, without question, that I am capable of more than I give myself credit for.

I think the funny thing that happened during 34 is that I’ve learned even more who I am and what I am about and where I should place my time.
I think I’ve gotten harder on myself in 34. I think I’ve called myself a failure this year more than any other year. I think I’ve felt the weighty heaviness of comparison much more than I ever have.
I think that ironically as I learned who I was even more and felt so comfortable in who I am, during 34 I’ve dealt with not feeling enough and have second-guessed friendships and relationships and my place among all of it.

I don’t say all this to sound depressed and sad. Because I wasn’t. Those aren’t the right descriptors.
And, because I needed 34.

Glennon Doyle posted a tweet today that rang so deeply in me.
She said, ” I have not written a word during quarantine. Just a reminder to worried artists- there are times for creating and times for becoming the person who will create the next thing. For many of us, this is a becoming time. Rest and become. Love you.”

I think in some way- 34 has been a becoming time for me. Yes, I have created and I have more firmly planted my feet and I have used my voice even while it shook.
And man, I’ve cried.
I’m going to another letter to myself of all the things that happened this year, of all the events and the laughter and the rose’ vodka.
But first, I take a deep breath and remember that I am still going. I am still moving.
I am still becoming.
And so are you.
Dear 34,
Thank you.
Sincerely,
Meg