As the big 4-0 quietly approaches, I find myself reflecting on the woman I’ve become.

Forty years on this Earth — and what a ride it’s been.

There have been chapters I never thought I’d survive.

Moments that cracked me open so deeply, I wasn’t sure how I’d put myself back together.

I’ve known betrayal that left me breathless.

I’ve given my heart to people who didn’t know how to hold it.

I’ve lost pieces of myself in the name of love, loyalty, and trying to be “enough.”

And still… I’m here.

Not just here — but alive.

Still soft. Still standing. Still believing in the good.

I’ve had days where I felt like I was drowning —

In grief, in loneliness, in disappointment.

I’ve stared at ceilings wondering why the people I chose couldn’t choose me back.

I’ve smiled through tears, laughed when I wanted to scream, and rebuilt myself with trembling hands.

But God… the things I’ve learned.

I’ve learned that the people who really love you will never make you beg for their effort.

That peace is more valuable than passion that leaves you empty.

That my worth was never supposed to be proven — only remembered.

I’m not where I thought I’d be by 40.

No husband. No babies. No picture-perfect story.

But I have something deeper now — a relationship with myself I never used to have.

I’m grateful for the love of my parents, my brother, my beautiful family —

The kind of love that stays steady, even when everything else feels uncertain.

I’m grateful for a body that still moves, breathes, dances.

For a job that keeps me afloat.

For quiet mornings.

For the ability to find joy, even in small things.

And for a heart that’s been through war… and still loves like it’s never been touched by pain.

I don’t always feel brave.

Sometimes I still ache.

I still have lonely nights where I wonder if love — real, soul-deep, lasting love — will ever find me again.

But most days, I feel something even more important than love.

I feel whole.

Not because everything is perfect — but because I’ve stopped abandoning myself.

I’ve learned to dress for me, eat for me, move for me.

I no longer silence my needs to keep someone else comfortable.

I’m learning to be content in the moment I’m in — even if it’s not the one I pictured.

Because this moment…

this breath…

this version of me — is sacred.

I know now that if I spend my life finding fault in everything,

there won’t be anything left in me to give to the people I love.

And I have so much love to give.

So as I approach 40, I’m not mourning what I don’t have.

I’m celebrating what I do.

I have a resilient spirit.

A compassionate heart.

A deep, divine femininity that’s been tested — but never taken.

I have my own back now.

And that? That’s something no one can take from me.

Here’s to loving yourself even when no one’s clapping.

Here’s to healing, even when it’s quiet.

Here’s to choosing softness after being hardened by life.

Forty years of learning how to do it right —

not by the world’s standards,

but by my own.