XXIV

I turned 24 recently. My mom came up to visit me and it was also Easter weekend, so there was lots of family and good food. We goofed around a bit:

We went to Muir Woods. It was beautiful and at points I ran when I expected to hike.

In celebration of my birthday, I gave myself a week with myself. I took the entire week off work and did things that I've often told myself that I don't have enough time to do.

I went to the deYoung and SF MOMA.
I went to the Conservatory of Flowers.
One day, I ended up at the beach.
A couple days I hung out with friends, but mostly I spent time by myself.
I had one great night celebrating with my neighbors.
I spent time hanging out with my cat. We took good naps together. He was sweet to me.
I read. I wrote many letters. I rode a lot of public transit.
I went running. I went climbing. I got lost.
I met someone.

I needed this week. Self care is so hard sometimes. Most of the time it's just so difficult for me to realize that being good to yourself is a necessity and not just a luxury. It's been so embedded into my mind that you're only working hard if you're stressed out and miserable, but that's really not sustainable at all and does no one any good. It was a good reminder to be kind to myself. 

I'm really happy about this birthday. I don't know why. I never really felt 23; it always felt like an odd in-between age. But this is the happiest and most sure of myself I have ever felt, so I'm ready to run with it. 

Here's to twenty-four!