Yesterday was my birthday.

I know that our culture enjoys it when women hide their age or become extremely despondent at the notion of growing another year older. We are a culture that worships youth and equates getting older with something stale or distasteful.

But I am not that kind of woman.

I wear my age like a badge of honor. I have survived many things in my 52 years on this planet. I have loved, been loved, made mistakes, had triumphs, and worried probably way more than I should about things that really didn’t matter.

I understand that I don’t look like I did in my twenties, thirties, or even forties. And that is okay. I often imagine my eighty year old self looking back at my 52 year old self and wonder what she would think about me. I think eighty year old me would say that 52 year old me was beautiful. I think she would wish I knew it. The same way my 52 year old self wishes that my 25 year old self knew about her power and beauty. So, I decided that I am going to start listening to wise future me.

My brain has also changed over the years. I may not be as quick at word puzzles as I once was, but I am an amazing creative problem solver. I have sat with hundreds of people in my office and have tucked away all of their stories and experiences into the folds of my brain. I have exchanged agility for wisdom. And that is fine with me.

My sister-in-law passed away this year. She was younger than me and full of wit, creativity, beauty, and love. I understand that to age is a privilege. I am grateful for every white hair and wrinkle this journey has given me. I am hopeful that I have much more time to learn and grow.