I lost a lot of weight this year.
Which feels funny to type, as it’s currently the holiday season and my clothes are fitting a biiiiiit tight. It’s also a week after my birthday (I have a whole 7 days of being 25 under my belt!) and a few days after my party. And I’ve been reflecting on how different I’m feeling than this time last year.
24 started out rough for me. It’s been a healing year, thankfully. But the healing came after the pain – old wounds, reopened, in order to heal properly this time around. Sometimes the surgeons have to go back in, to re-fix the same old problem. Sometimes wounds get infected, without proper care. Sometimes the sickness just keeps coming back, no matter how many remedies you’ve tried. But the good news? Healing is possible. Healing is worth fighting for. Read More
24 has been my favorite number since before I can remember – always finding its way onto my softball jerseys or into my screen names growing up. 24 is one of the best TV shows to grace our generation (…and make us wish David Palmer could actually run for president). 24 is a fantastic Switchfoot song. And, as of yesterday, 24 is how old I am.
That feels so surreal. I can’t possibly be 24 – that seems far too old for the girl who still eats cheerios for dinner, for the girl who refuses to pay for matching furniture. 24 is officially “mid-twenties”; at least when I was 23 I could argue that I was still in my early twenties. I had an excuse for my actions. At 24, there’s no fighting it – I’m in my mid-twenties and should probably be meal prepping or whatever adults these days are doing. Is that what adults these days are doing?? That’s the lack of 24-level-maturity I have. Read More