30 and Rooting…

It’s my birthday in a few days and boy am I excited! On my 27th birthday, I began to theme my yearly experiences. So, I was 27 and proud, 28 and flourishing, 29 and found and now I’m going to be 30 and rooting.

Over the years, these labels have become more meaningful to me. I was proud of myself for having a successful career, getting married and also being generally Ok. I was nonetheless flourishing the next year even after surviving a messy divorce, relocating back to my family house, warring with my new boss and still trying to be Ok. The following year I found myself in the midst of chaos, heartbreak, financial insufficiency and many more. I found myself, strong and able and actually Ok, not being Ok, not trying to be Ok, but actually Ok.

This year, I am rooting. I’m digging through, stretching out and filling places I never knew I could. I’m accepting and letting go, hitting brick walls and detouring, allowing life humble me and also standing up for myself, crying and laughing, pushing back and taking a beating, praying hard and getting no responses; yet staying hopeful, learning and unlearning…you name it.

This year, I’m rooting. Burying myself deep into the soil that is life. Withstanding the lonely darkness and staying illuminated through optimism and the gratitude that comes with answered prayers.

This year, I’m rooting. Watering myself with the advice I give to others that I know I need to take too. Allowing the experiences of others form a rich part of my fertilizer and never doubting “that could have been me” when I see bad things happen to undeserving folks.

This year, I’m rooting. Acknowledging I have lied to myself a couple of times to escape the lessons I ought to have learned years ago, while at the same forgiving myself for the things I didn’t know before.

This year, I’m rooting. Slowly but surely peeling off the tight and inhibiting skins that won’t let my glowth shine through lessons learnt.

This year I’m rooting. Going back on my words and showing no remorse. Mending fences I demolished with my own hands in anger and little knowledge.

This year I’m rooting. Accepting my germinating phase may take time, so I remember God is time and God is perfect; which makes time perfect.

This year I’m rooting, for all the lost, patchy, sick and tired years.

This year I’m rooting, for all the yet-to-be delivered good news, strength to carry on and second chances.

This year I’m rooting, for Lola.