Birthdays feel different now.

Less main character montage.
More quiet stocktake.

No dramatic reinvention. No manifesto. No sudden urge to become a person who enjoys hiking or journaling in a linen set. Just a pause. A moment to look around at the life I’ve built and admit (a little reluctantly, because humility is so important) that I think I’m actually doing alright.

That feels worth noticing.

This year taught me a lot. Some of it profound. Some of it deeply stupid. Most of it somewhere in between.

10 Things I’ve Learnt This Past Year

1. Balance isn’t a myth.
It’s just less sexy than chaos, so I used to miss it.

2. My body was never a “before” photo.
It’s sturdy. It’s strong. It gets me through life. That should’ve always counted for more.

3. Living alone helped me hear myself properly.
Not the curated version. Not the social version. Just me, in my own rhythms, figuring out what actually fits.

4. Being braver with words still counts as bravery.
Even if I sometimes wish I could say things out loud as clearly as I write them.

5. Dating with an AuDHD brain is, in fact, a constant internal meeting.
One side wants to sprint. The other wants an agenda and a follow-up email.

6. Friendship deserves more respect than it gets.
Some of the most intimate, stabilising love in my life has been platonic.

7. I don’t need to be “out” all the time to still feel connected to myself.
I’m still gay on the couch. I’m still gay meal prepping. I’m still gay in bed by 9:30.

8. Not every spark is a storyline.
Some kisses are just kisses. Some crushes are just cardio. Some moments are allowed to be lovely without becoming anything bigger.

9. Routine isn’t boring.
Routine is the infrastructure of my sanity.

10. I’m doing better than I give myself credit for.
And I think I’m finally old enough to say that without immediately trying to humble myself.

10 Things I’m Hoping For

Not manifesting in the “moon water and delusion” sense.
Just quietly hoping for.

1. More ease.
The kind that doesn’t need to be earned the hard way.

2. A connection that feels clear.
Not perfect. Just clear.

3. More writing.
Because apparently my brain is loud, and putting it on the internet continues to be weirdly effective.

4. A holiday.
Warm. Restorative. Shirtless where appropriate.

5. More friendship in the daylight.
More dinners, more coffee, more conversations where no one is performing.

6. A little more softness toward myself.
Especially on the days I default to critique.

7. A body I continue to appreciate for what it does, not just how it photographs.

8. Work that still feels good.
Challenging, yes. But not at the expense of the rest of me.

9. More moments that don’t need analysing while they’re happening.
Just joy. Just presence. Just being there.

10. A year that feels lived in.
Not rushed. Not wasted. Not perfect. Just properly lived.

No moral, really.

Just this:

I feel more like myself than I used to.

Not because I’ve figured everything out.
Not because life is suddenly smooth and sorted and cinematic.
But because the gap between who I am privately and who I am publicly feels smaller now.

That feels like something.

So here’s to another year of being alive, sturdy, perceptive, occasionally unhinged, a little softer, and still becoming.

Happy birthday to me.

May the coffee be strong, the gym lighting kind, the friendships steady, and the year ahead full of good things in whatever form they arrive.