dear thirty,

dear thirty,

I hope you bring more sunrises. And maybe a few California sunsets, too. I hope you leave me filled to the brim after nights spent with the girls. The belly laughs, the boy tear purges, the gentleness of “I see you, I got you” that female friendships always carry in their purse — you know, the extra special girlhood stuff. I hope you find peace on the other side of every boxing match with anxiety. Maybe even bring it to a quiet hum this year. I hope you are filled with a love so big, you can’t even fathom holding it. Love for life; love for your people; love for your passions; love for things you can’t quite explain. At least not yet. And if romantic love comes along, I won’t hope you make it stick, as nice as that would be. Instead, I will hope you let it meet me right where I am and never make me doubt myself once. I hope you finally feel like enough — with or without someone else at the other end of the line. I hope you remain in good health: mental, physical, emotional. I hope that same wellbeing transfers right through to the people you love most. I hope you screenshot the texts that make you smile so you never forget. And let the ones that broke you slip out the back door, unannounced. I hope you leave some doors open ever so slightly and know which ones to close softly. I hope you challenge yourself to look at problems differently. To know when to problem solve and when to let the problem solve itself. I hope you’re laden with grace for the drunk dials and the times when you learn to let go. Because there are surely more to come. Missed connections, miscommunication, mishaps, and all that. I hope that in those moments, you speak kinder to yourself; zip off the blame and leave it at the door. Push yourself to loosen the reins on things you can’t control. I hope you always walk back to yourself and understand that having human feelings does not equate to being too much. That it is a beautiful thing to care so deeply. For things to go anyway but the way you wished they would. That just because something ends, doesn’t mean it didn’t matter. That it doesn’t make you a failure. Quite the contrary. And I hope that makes it just a little bit easier to heal. I hope you lean into your superpower — the kind of kindness that radiates. The one you don’t always think is there. On the other hand, I hope you don’t fear the word “no.” Especially in moments when you need to put on your mask first. I hope you chase that childhood dream across the country and scream into the Pacific: finally. When it’s time to open a studio, I hope the manifestation comes easy. I hope your mornings are filled with as many lattes as they are laughter. And I hope you wear your heart on your sleeve just as much. I hope you travel to different corners of the world, try new foods, and collect a library of photos. A library of magazines and books, too. I hope your pen finds the pages of your journal as often as possible. Save the movie stubs, the airplane tickets, and write it all down. I hope spontaneity weaves it’s way into your grand plans at times when you need to scrap the plan entirely. I hope that whenever your gut speaks up, you lean in and listen — and that whatever it is you need to hear, you trust it. With your whole being.

Most of all, I hope you remember you are given every corner of the universe for a time; for a reason. The very manifestation of everything in transit — and my oh my, at 30 years in and a lifetime to go, how lovely a thing that is.

with sunshine and all my love, g xx