Birthdays. Always an occasion to get sappy and write barf-inducing reflections! Mine’s just two days away, so make yourself comfortable and hop along for the ride.

When I was 19, I couldn’t wait to grow up so I could do grownup things like earn a pay check and make my own decisions. Now, I’m about to turn 25, which means I’ve been doing the abovementioned things for the better part of three years. SAY WHAT.

I remember being 22, showing up for my first day of work feeling a heady clash of trepidation and excitement. Trying to memorise as many names as I could and oddly being very tickled that there were far more white people in the office than I’d anticipated. Going to my first office Christmas party, getting completely smashed and cooping my drunken self up in the bathroom for so long that I couldn’t keep up with all the missed calls from concerned coworkers. Making the biggest presentation of my six month career and then being congratulated on my confidence by a senior who had no clue that I’d been so ready to collapse from anxiety. Pushing stubbornly for a transfer to Sydney, not being able to get it and eventually learning to be thankful that I didn’t. Working 10 to 14 hour days every single day. Going on vacation with crazy fun friends, having the best food I’d ever eaten and feeling so sick after accidentally/on purpose smoking an entire pack of cheap cigarettes by the hotel pool because #vacation. Having the time of my life
at a Halloween party in a disused warehouse and waking up the next day with a hungover so bad I felt like my head wasn’t going to be able to retain its shape. 

Most of my fondest memories of being in my early twenties clearly had a recurring theme, and when I reminisce over those vignettes the nostalgia hits me as badly as the irony of my previously-held romantic worldview that put so much of a focus on being the characters I‘d always admired on (FOR REAL) Gossip Girl - always drinking, always going out, always brunching with friends in high places. It was fun and occasionally reckless. I’m so glad I got the chance to experience all of that because the onset of your mid-twenties robs you of the urge to do such things. I think they call it 'getting your shit together’.

Now, at 24 and on the precipice of turning another year older, I feel blessed. I work less hours, read significantly more and spend more time taking care of myself. I am more careful with money and with learning to be selfless. I’ve fulfilled my dreams of going to New York and around Italy. Still experience bouts of wanderlust that even those two amazing trips couldn’t tame, and really wouldn’t have it any other way because to travel is the biggest blessing. I run 10km marathons. I have the fashion blog I’ve always wanted to have. I make sure to have fun with friends who matter to me. I’ve faced challenges that almost broke me (except they didn’t!!) and emerged unscathed. I have a partner I can lean on and be my crazy self with. I am mercilessly aware of the abundance of women who achieved far more than I have at the age of 25, and I continue to let that motivate me to not stagnate. I am a work in progress, but I am more satisfied with who I am than ever before. 

So…hello 25. Nice to meet you, where you been? I could show you incredible things!

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