I woke up this morning, stretched my arms, and caught my reflection in the mirror. There they were—those little lines at the corners of my eyes. Crow’s feet, they call them. Signs of laughter, of late-night talks, of years spent living. A few years ago, I might have sighed, thinking of all the creams, serums, and tricks to make them disappear. But today? I smiled. Because every line, every shift, every softening curve of my body tells a story, and I’m finally learning to love every chapter.
36 Looks Different Than I Imagined
There was a time when I thought I’d have it all figured out by now. Maybe I’d have the perfect career, the perfect house, the perfect balance of everything. But life, in all its unpredictability, had other plans. I’ve experienced deep love and painful loss. I’ve built things from the ground up, only to watch them fall apart and start over again. I’ve navigated heartbreak, joy, grief, resilience, and everything in between. And through it all, I’ve realized something: Life isn’t about perfection. It’s about embracing what is—messy, beautiful, complicated, and real.
Seeing Myself Through a New Lens
Recently, I had professional headshots done. It was something I had been looking forward to—capturing the version of myself I am today. But as I flipped through each photo, I felt that old, familiar urge creeping in: picking apart every little thing. The wrinkles that have suddenly appeared. The extra weight that wasn't there in my 20s. The way my face has changed, carrying the years in ways I didn’t expect. It was hard not to compare. Hard not to see the “flaws” first. But then I took a step back and reminded myself—this is me. The woman in those photos has lived. She has loved. She has overcome. She has built a life she’s proud of. And every single line, every shift, every bit of softness is a reflection of that journey.
Aging Isn’t Losing—It’s Gaining
There’s this narrative that getting older means losing—losing youth, losing time, losing opportunities. But what if aging is actually about gaining?
At 36, I’ve gained confidence in who I am. I’ve gained the wisdom to know what truly matters and what doesn’t deserve my energy. I’ve gained deeper, more meaningful relationships, including the one with myself. I’ve gained the ability to say no without guilt and yes without fear.
Sure, my body has changed. The way I move, the way I recover, the way I feel in my skin—it’s all different. And I won’t lie and say I don’t have moments where I miss the ease of my 20s. But this body? It’s carried me through so much. It’s strong. It’s capable. It’s worthy of love and care, not criticism.
Loving the Woman I Am
At 36, I’m learning to love myself in a way I never did before. Not just for how I look, but for who I am. I love the way I show up for the people I care about. I love the way I chase my dreams, even when fear creeps in. I love the way I’ve survived things I once thought would break me. I love the woman I’ve become—imperfect, evolving, and unapologetically real.
So, here’s to 36. To the lines that tell my story. To the changes that remind me I’m still growing. To the love I give and the love I receive. And most of all, to embracing life exactly as it is—because every version of me has been worth celebrating, and this one is no different.
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