I first wrote about this a year ago, in When Birthdays Don’t Feel Magical Anymore. It was about how birthdays lose their spark once adulthood muddies the water: the childhood wonder, the yearning for adventure, all of it replaced by bills, responsibilities, and the feeling of being behind in the race that is life. If you want to read it, here’s the link.
Well, another 365 days later, we’re back.
Not much has changed.
My solar return was filled with uncertainty, laughter, small joys, and a fair share of heartbreak and disappointment. Let me take you through it.
I’m still fat
Yes, I say that consciously because that’s what I am.
I haven’t worked out much, I haven’t eaten healthier, and I haven’t done more for my health. I know I’m creeping closer to insulin resistance, and I carry a high hereditary risk for cardiovascular disease. None of that has kept me away from air-fried fries or a slice of light, creamy cheesecake.
I didn’t travel much
For personal reasons, travel wasn’t really an option this year.
My summer happened mostly at home, occasionally in my jacuzzi. No French Riviera, no Turkish coast, none of it. The one trip I did make was to Cologne for Olivia Dean’s concert. That was a blast.
I still feel behind
I haven’t been able to shake the feeling of being behind while former classmates post photos from Bali, Croatia, and the Netherlands.
I had my eighteenth breakdown in June and sudden crying spells in July. Life in the age of Instagram is one long comparison game and inferiority complex.
A lot of those feelings are tied to the complicated relationship I have with my body. I wrote more about that experience as a Black woman in this post.
I spent the summer at home
Because of my partner’s surgery, I didn’t get to dance on a Cape Verdean beach or hike in the Swiss Alps.
Instead, most days were spent at home: caring for him, trying to keep the house clean, and working.
I got the job
Part of my inferiority complex came from not being a corporate boss-b*tch.
I watched Joan Clayton on Girlfriends, Miranda on Sex and the City, and random people on LinkedIn living the life I wanted: a good job, decent colleagues, and money.
My current job pays my bills. It just doesn’t fill my life or my heart.
In October, I start a new one. It’s a limited contract, but a real upgrade in both work and pay. A reputable company, meaningful benefits, and opportunities I don’t have now. I’d love for it to become permanent.
Still, this isn’t how I pictured the end of my twenties.
After three years, I finally got the job I was waiting for… yet I feel extremely nervous.
I spent so long believing a better position would solve my dissatisfaction that now I’m wondering whether the problem was never the workplace at all.
Maybe I shouldn’t have changed jobs back in 2024. Maybe I’ve spent years chasing the next opportunity, convinced it would finally make me feel successful.
At least with the other job, I was living in my dream city. I had familiar bars, dance classes, and, honestly… more money.
This job was supposed to be an in-between step. But now, with another limited contract, I wonder: should I have just sucked it up? Should I have stayed where I was and been grateful for what I had?
Well… there is one thing that has changed.
This year, I wasn’t lying on the bathroom floor while giving myself a wax.
LOL.