I wrote this in my journal yesterday, a reflection on the former versions of me on the eve of my 35th birthday. I hope you don’t mind me sharing it with you.
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Today is Wednesday, August 3rd and tomorrow is my 35th birthday. I’m writing this from the patio of my Brooklyn apartment. The late afternoon summer sun is setting in and there’s a light breeze blowing through the lush green trees below. When I was younger I used to dream about having my own secret garden; a place that no one knew about but me, with overgrown vines and a key that only I knew the hiding spot for. This little balcony is my secret garden right now; my place that’s just for me. I love it out here.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how the older we get the more we do in an attempt to pay homage to younger versions of ourselves. Tiny actions we take as if to quietly whisper, ‘I’m still you’. We find little pockets of memories, of long forgotten dreams, filled with times that we felt safe and secure and we call them forward, asking them to help us in our present. Gentle, subtle reminders that we’ve made it through before and we can make it through again.
This is one of my favorite pictures of myself as a kid. It feels very much like the little girl that I remember being – playful, loud, always a little bit messy. I was definitely with my friends, because I was always with my friends. I look so much like my mom in this picture.
It’s easy to think kindly of this version of me, when I was young and the world hadn’t yet told me to attach unworthiness or embarrassment to my actions and emotions. But what about 15 year old me, an awkward high schooler who didn’t understand how to process the deep pain she was living through at home, or the 20 year old me who moved to Los Angeles without any plan at all or the 25 year old Libby who was getting married with no clue how to be a good partner to someone, or me at 28 when I was a shell of myself just trying to find my footing in New York, or the 32 year old who had no idea how hard the next 2 years of her life would work to destroy her. It’s hard to realize that all of those versions of me are just the bigger Russian dolls of this little girl playing in the sand here, but I am her and she is me and we all grew up to be sitting here right now, turning 35 tomorrow.
I have spent a lot of my adult life running from all the versions of me that felt a little sticky; replacing all the things that were good with feelings of inadequacy and shame. But now, as I sit here today, I feel really proud of all those former little Libby’s. I’m proud of this life we’ve gone on to create together, one life filled with adventure and mystery and just so much beauty. I’m proud that we never felt too scared to try something new; that even when we failed we weren’t afraid to just move on and try something else. I’m proud that when we’ve felt blindsided and out of our depth we knew when to ask for help. I’m proud of our marriage, of always trying to become a better partner, of being okay with being wrong. I’m proud of the community of friends that we’ve cultivated and nurtured that feed into our soul and make the next version of us better than the one before. I’m proud that we keep growing out of old belief systems so that we can make space for new ones.
Tomorrow we turn 35. Nothing is perfect, everything is still a little messy, but it’s so beautiful, isn’t it? The chance to get older, to keep trying new things. So here I sit, in my secret little garden, paying homage to all the versions of myself that figured it out, that didn’t quit, that never resigned to living a life that didn’t quite fit. I’m whispering ‘I am still you’ to that little buoyant blonde baby girl, and today, right now, I feel incredibly proud of the me that we’ve become.
Happy Birthday, little you.
All my love,
Elizabeth
You should be proud of yourself and who you have become 💝!
Happy and healthy birthday to you !! 🎉🎉🎉
Happy Birthday! Your reflections often give me pause. You are insightful and brave and vulnerable. Celebrate!!