The Chapter I'm Not Hiding From

Still Becoming · No. 03

I turn a year older this Friday, and I’m saying it loudly. Not “forever 39.” Not the laugh-it-off-change-the-subject thing so many women my age do when birthdays come up. Loudly. Proudly.

Yes, I dye my hair. Yes, I work out, get my nails done, keep up with what’s current. But I do all of it because I have free will, not because I’m running from a number. I make no apologies for wanting to feel beautiful, fit, and attractive. Age is just a number. What matters is the story you’re writing with it.

And that’s the thing — I don’t think of life in “seasons.” Seasons happen to you. I think of life as a book, and you are the author. That distinction matters. It means you stop waiting for some magical moment to arrive, and you stop blaming the universe when it doesn’t. You pick up the pen.

I’ve actually been living that metaphor pretty literally this week. I’m reading a book called Theo from Golden — I’m only on chapter 57 with 5 more chapters to go, and I already can’t put it down. It follows an old man named Theo who visits a town called Golden, and the whole book is quietly making a case for something I think I already believed but needed reminding of: one person, filled with kindness, can ripple out and change a great number of lives. Not through some grand gesture. Just through daily intention, being present, seeing people, actually valuing them. It’s a first-time author, and honestly, I’m blown away by the writing. If you haven’t read it, I highly recommend it.

It’s part of what’s nudging me into this next chapter I’m optimistic about. I feel grounded in a new way; I like my job, my kids are in good places, my husband is happy in his own chapter. That’s not something I take for granted, and I won’t pretend it’s always been this way.

I’ve also been watching Your Friends and Neighbors on Netflix (John Hamm, Amanda Peet), and between that and Theo, something’s being amplified for me right now: we were sold a false blueprint for happiness. Find the spouse. Buy the house. White picket fence, the dog, the two kids, both of you with good jobs. Smile. Post the vacation photos. Let everyone envy the highlight reel.

I’ll be honest, I have a complicated relationship with this. I love social media. I love writing here on Substack, which is its own strange, semi-public act. But I’m also not going into debt to chase a vacation that keeps up with the Joneses. Both things are true. And Theo would probably say the ripple effect I want to leave behind has nothing to do with either extreme; it’s just about showing up for the people in front of me.

This birthday has me landing somewhere I like: grateful, and more comfortable in my own life than I’ve ever been. I’m not in a rush to be somewhere else, or someone else. I’m slowing down and taking in the moments, valuing time with friends and real conversations with family way more than I used to.

I think that’s what comes with age, not less curiosity, but more confidence. I still want to learn, to grow, to try new things. But now I also know I have something to offer the world because of what I’ve already lived. Maybe that’s the whole point of the ripple: you don’t need to have it all figured out to still be worth learning from.

The lesson: You don't have to wait for permission to be proud of where you are. Age isn't something happening to you; it's a chapter you're writing. And kindness, offered daily and without fanfare, ripples further than you'll ever get to see. Pick up the pen and own your own story.

Still becoming, one Sunday at a time. 🖤