So weird. I’m happy about my birthday, but I’m quietly happy.
Last year was a beautiful day; I could not have asked for more. I just felt loved. It was truly beautiful.
For years before that, I didn’t celebrate. The whole infertility thing.
Before that, I always did something, organised something, was somewhere.
This year, I’m just quietly happy.
I’m working. My business; the job I love. And then I’m doing nothing, happily.
I’m so tired at the moment. Any chance to be on my own, I take. So, 47 will come and then it will go, and I will remain happy, knowing that I’m living the life I want to be living right now because it will create the life I want to live permanently.
I am truly blessed. I am truly grateful.