I know you were expecting a countdown, but we're not going out like that this time. This time, we're counting up.
As I turn 26 and reflect on what that number actually means, I realize we've all been doing it wrong.
I've never been able to grasp the concept of celebrating birthdays as a starting point. In actuality, each birthday is a marker of a year passed, a notch on our belts after a completed term signifying to the world, "Hey, I made it!" No, it's not a welcoming or a start, it's a celebration of an ending.
As cliche as it might sound, I've always believe my birthday to be my own personal New Year celebration. It's my chance to press the reset button on everything: relationships, career, mood, etc. Without being dramatic, I can honestly say that 26 has been the worst year I can remember. I lost people I cared about, some I didn't even have to bury. I made decisions I never thought I'd make and I had to deal with things I never thought were possible.
That being said, I must admit, 26 has also been the most fun year I can remember. I took trips, partied and lived my whole life this year. What I lacked in responsibility, I made up for in spontaneity. It was as if something died in me and because of it, I lived. Hence why I've appropriately themed this birthday #TheResurrectionOfCoco.
So, to 26 I say this: Thank you, and goodbye.
Hello, 27. Day 1.