A year ago today, on my 27th birthday, I woke up in Lancaster, California.

I kissed my then-boyfriend goodbye as he left for work, and I spent the entire day alone, until he returned that evening around 6 p.m. The plan was to go out to dinner to celebrate my birthday.

I remember I had a decent day, but it was unlike any other birthday I had ever experienced before.

You see, most years, my birthday is a total wash. It falls at the end of the hottest month of the year in New Orleans, which is prime time for hurricanes to develop. Typically, on my birthday, I am evacuated somewhere, even if that means hanging out in my mother’s house, drinking bourbon, and watching the news, hoping and praying our city doesn’t go under. Therefore, I rarely plan a birthday for myself. Perhaps I don’t feel as though I deserve one, or perhaps I prefer to avoid disappointment.

This year in California was no different. I didn’t plan anything. I kind of hoped the day would pass by quickly so I could wake up on August 30, take a deep breath, and not have to worry about celebrating a day centered around me for another year.

My day was peaceful. I drank my morning coffee outside as I lounged on our hammock and watched the dog stare at birds in the trees. If I focus hard enough, I can still feel how the air felt that day. I talked to my mom on the phone. I talked with a few friends. I wrote. I worked out. I took a couple of long walks. I embraced my solitude and the silence. I reflected, I dreamed, I planned. I even called a psychic to book a phone session with him for the following week, which a friend gifted to me. I’ll be sure to share the details of the reading with you all and how it’s played out over the course of a year.

As the day grew closer and closer to 6 p.m. when I knew my ex would be arriving home, my anxiety quickened, and I felt myself feeling swallowed by nerves and unhappiness. It was as if someone else’s presence on my day was causing me stress, as if I was responsible for their happiness, even though it was a struggle at that time to cultivate my own. I remember when he walked through the door, I panicked. I was in the bedroom, lying on my stomach, reading on my laptop, and I felt as though I had been caught being lazy. So I jumped up as soon as he walked into the room, which startled the both of us and made him suspicious.

“What are you doing,” he asked.

“I was reading.”

“Why’d you jump up?”

“I really have no idea.”

This occurrence caused friction between the two of us. He remained skeptical while I tried to assure him there was no rhyme or reason for my jumpiness. I could have been honest and shared that sometimes my anxiety manifests into insecurity in feeling like I’m lazy/not doing enough, so when I heard the door open, and I was reading, I jumped up and felt as though I had to busy myself when he arrived home. But I figured he wouldn't understand.

I no longer wanted to go to dinner to celebrate, because I didn’t know what I’d be celebrating. A happy life? A future together? I sensed friction in the air, and I had experienced one too many dinners sitting across from someone and not saying much at all to subject myself to that again — on my birthday, no less. So, I asked to cancel plans.

We fought that night. I discovered he wanted to take me dinner, because it seemed like the right gesture, but also to make himself feel like he did a good job celebrating me. The memories of this night are burned into my brain — the look on his face as he untied his work boots and sat on the edge of the guest room bed; the tightness in my cheeks from being stained with salty tears; the discomfort I felt in my heart and my chest as I stared at a man I knew I was not supposed to be with. There was so much awkwardness in the air, you could almost reach out and grab it. I stood there begging to be understood, but, in hindsight, what I needed was to be released.

We ordered pizza that night and ate it outside on our patio underneath the string lights while curled up together in the hammock. I’m not sure if it was the buzz from one too many IPAs (Lucky Luke IPA - I miss that shit), or the fact that I knew this was one of my final moments with him, but I felt content there — outside, swaying. At the same time, I also knew that I never wanted to feel this way again, especially on my birthday.

And ever since January 17, 2019, I haven’t felt that way. And I won’t today.

One year later, here we are — August 29, 2019. My 28th birthday.

I woke up in New Orleans today.

I am single, but that does not mean that I am alone.

I am spending the day with the people I love before celebrating over the weekend with even more people that I love. People who love me. People who lift me up. People who celebrate me, not to make themselves feel good, but to make me feel good.

This past year of my life has been the biggest, most challenging year to date. I’ve cried more than I ever thought possible, but I’ve laughed ten times more than that. I’ve grown in touch with myself emotionally, spiritually, and physically. I’ve written every single day. Sometimes it’s a sentence, and sometimes it’s three chapters in my book. I’ve embraced my new reality of being single back in my hometown. And it’s so good. I’ve learned to say yes, and I’ve learned to say no. Both are very important things, because either one can change your life. I’ve learned to let go of things (and people) that don’t serve me the minute I discover they’re weighing me down, and not a minute longer. I’ve become more open, more vulnerable, more unapologetic in who I am. I’m living my life the way it’s intended to be lived — on my terms. I’m dating. I’m laughing about it. I’m allowing myself to like a boy, and I’m allowing myself to say goodbye when it’s time. One day, someday, there will be one that I don’t wish to bid farewell to. Until then, I am absolutely, positively okay with being on my own, because sometimes, most times, being alone is better than being with someone who just doesn’t get you.

And, God, I’m happy. I’m so happy. And I’m excited. I’m excited for my life, I’m excited for my future, and I’m excited for my 28th year on this earth.

And, for the first time in awhile, and perhaps for the first time ever, I am so damn jazzed that today is my birthday.

Today is my birthday!

And I will allow myself to be celebrated.

I’ve come so far since this very day in 2018. Every inch of my life is completely different, and it is so much better than I could have ever imagined it to be. If I have learned one thing this year, it is to put yourself first every time. You know what you need. Do you have it? Go get it.

If you find yourself in a place of loneliness or discomfort, or if you’re in a relationship that doesn’t fill you up and bring you joy and love, or if you’re residing in skin that needs some adjusting to make you feel at home, you must take the leap of faith in securing a future that makes you proud.

You must think about yourself a year from now.

You must.

Where do you want to be?

Get there.

Because there is joy and light on the other side, and it’s all for you! And although it may look a little different this time around, there is love. Loads and loads of so much love. And that, my friend, is all for you, too.