Hi, I’m Dominique. Today I turn 27 years old.
It’s honestly an age I really didn’t think I would get to, but that’s only because I have a fatalism about my life, like somehow I’ve defied the odds and made it despite myself. But this isn’t going to really be a discussion about mortality, I accepted my fate years ago. But as I am prone to do, this is a reflective piece, because that’s 75% of what I do with my brain. Particularly, I reflect on how far I’ve come, not in the sense that I have grown to do so in recent years, where I compare my material successes to those around me, but in a real mental and emotional sense, how I’ve grown as a person.
I feel weird about feeling this way, because I’m not sure that I have a reason to feel this way, but I am extremely fortunate and thankful to have made it this far. And I am extremely fortunate to have had the experiences that have shaped me today, because the person I am today is a person I’m finally comfortable with.
The person I am today, as a result of my upbringing and my experiences is no longer afraid to call out bullshit when she sees it. and I see a lot of it. I no longer fear what I like. I embrace the fact that I’m not conventional., because what exactly is conventional anyway? I don’t form attachments to too many things, but the things that I do attach to are very near and dear to my heart.
I like to sing and dance, even though I’m not every good at them. I can be really fucking obnoxious and I have a really confrontational spirit that I do a damn good job of keeping in check, unless I’m hungry. I have loved, I have been loved. I smile at babies and listen to old folk talk. I’m prone to anxiety. I can suck as a friend. I can be self-absorbed. I’m still the smartest person in my bedroom right now.
No matter what, I also know that none of this makes me inherently special, but just human like everyone else, and it’s refreshing to know that having once felt like such an outsider.
So for my 27th birthday, I am giving myself love. To not be so hard on myself, because it doesn’t achieve anything except for making me feel worse. For embracing solitude. For enjoying company when I have it, but not consistently requiring it. For sticking through with what I want to do even in the times where I was lost in the forest. For not giving up even when that seemed like the best option. Happy birthday.