HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!

I Made It to 42.

That sentence alone deserves a standing ovation, a moment of stillness and all of the accolades and bougie snacks.

Not because I thought I wouldn’t make it—but because there were seasons when I didn’t want to. Moments when the weight of disappointment, grief, fear, and survival felt louder than joy. Louder than faith. Louder than the reasons to keep going and I wanted to give in to the loudness.

But here I am. Alive. Learning. Softening. Rebuilding. Growing.
And that’s not just a life milestone—it’s a fucking miracle. #IYKYK

What 42 Years Have Taught Me About Loving Myself

They don’t tell you that self-love is a life long practice, not a destination. It’s not bubble baths and affirmations alone. It’s unlearning every lie someone else tells you about your worth. It’s telling your reflection, I love you, even when your bank account, body, or circumstances don’t look the way you hoped. It’s showing up for yourself even when you yourself don’t believe you are worth the value of showing up for. It’s a daily, sometimes moment to moment practice of choosing self without guilt or shame.

At 42, I’ve learned that I love myself in ways I didn’t know were possible at 22 or 32. I no longer shrink to make others comfortable. I no longer accept half-hearted love or expired dreams. I no longer wait to be chosen. I no longer stifle my intellect to be palatable to the ignorant. I courageously speak and advocate for myself and others. I confidently walk into rooms I probably have no business being in but I’m in them anyway. I no longer feel guilty because others choose to misunderstand me.

I choose me. On purpose. With purpose. Every single time.

Recognizing the Good: This Is Who I Am Now

In the spirit of self-honoring, I want to name the parts of me I’m proud of. Because I’ve earned this self-awareness. I’ve worked extremely hard for this clarity. It has become very important to me that I no longer doubt these things about myself.

I am generous.

Maybe not in the traditional sense, and not just with money, but with energy, time, creativity, and encouragement. When I care, I show up fully every time I’m asked. This is not due to lack of boundaries or being a people pleaser. My generosity reflects my identity as a fellow human being. As a human being living on this planet and existing in the communities I do. It is a core belief to be family to those who I claim as family.

I am honest.

Even when it’s uncomfortable. Even when my voice shakes. I say what I mean, and I own when I’m wrong. At all times and with all peoples. Elders, authority, babies, and everyone in between. The truth hurts, then it heals has been a life mantra since childhood. We respect and trust the truth and I have always endeavored to be a trustworthy human being.

I am creative.

From my kitchen, to my journals, to the way I tell stories; creativity is how I breathe life into everything I touch.

I am funny.

I know how to break tension with a joke, hold space with laughter, and find light even in the darkest hours. One thing about it, two things for sure and three for motherfucking certain, I am going to laugh showing all of my teeth.

I have taste.

In food – exquisite, in music – immaculate, in aesthetics – immediately yes. I know what feels good, looks good, sounds good to me, on me, for me —and I don’t compromise that for trends.

I am resilient.

Life has thrown fire, floods, and false promises. I’ve walked through all of it barely holding on at times and still emerged whole. From childhood bullying to corporate insensitivity to outright white fragility microaggressions I’ve endured it all and I still remain, steadfast, courageous and excited about living.

This year, I’m not just recognizing who I am—I’m loving who I am. Deeply. Loudly. Without apology.

I love how much I feel—how my love runs deep and my care shows up in practical, intentional and sometimes unexpected ways.
I love how I look even when I don’t love what I see. The smoothness of my skin, the light of my smile, the curve of my hips as I walk. The way that I smell, the sound of my voice, my rhythm when I dance. Every detail of me is divine design.
I love how I think. My mind is a labyrinth of curiosity, flavor, ideas, dreams and possibility. I love the way I process information and the way my mind formulates plans. I love how analytical and accepting my mind is.
I love my loyalty. If I rock with you, I rock with you hard. No gray area. No fake shit. No pretending. No moving weird. If we’re locked in, we are locked in and there is not removing the lock or throwing away the key.
I love my freedom. The way I keep choosing myself, even when it’s hard. Even when it costs me. Especially when it costs me…as a reminder to myself that I am and will always be worth it.

There was a time, when for years, I only saw the pain. The abandonment. The silence. The me being a victim of it all. The rooms I had to grow up in too fast. But 42 offers a different lens—a softer one. One that says:

Yes, those things happened. But not only are they not the whole story; baby we are just only scratching the surface of living!

I have good memories too. Beautiful ones. Food, laughter, tradition, belonging—even if temporary. Those deserve space. And so do the relationships that have evolved over time. Building something solid from the ashes of what was lost. It matters.

What I Know for Sure at 42

Peace is a choice. And I will choose it—even if that means choosing solitude, silence, or stillness.
Love starts at home. And I am my home just like you are yours.
Growth isn’t linear. But it’s always happening. Even in the pauses.
I am not behind. My timeline is not broken. My life is not late. It is unfolding.

To Anyone Reading This: Celebrate Yourself Too

You don’t have to wait for a birthday to reflect. You don’t need a milestone to name the ways you’ve grown. But if you’re here—then you’re in the right place b/c this is a space of celebration —let this be your mirror:

You are worthy.
You are not defined by your failures
You are allowed to be proud of who you are.

You are worth celebrating!

At 42, I’m not chasing validation; the only thing i’m chasing is the bag happiness comes in. I’m not negotiating my joy; only the cost of life’s experiences. Most importantly, I’m not explaining SHIT… not my softness, my standards, or my soul.

I am walking into this next chapter with open hands, full heart, and clear vision.

HAPPY 42 BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!!

Romneka G.