There was something unsettling about 22. Not because it is particularly old or particularly young, but because it felt like standing in a doorway. One foot in who you used to be and one foot trembling toward who you are becoming. And somewhere in the middle of all that transition, you spend most of the year trying not to split open from the weight of it all.
🧚 I spent the majority of 22 bursting at the seams. Grasping at moonbeams. Trying not to crack. Trying to hold uncertainty in hands that desperately wanted guarantees.
🧚 At 22, I learned what it meant to wait for something that mattered so deeply that the waiting itself almost swallowed me whole. I waited impatiently for my internship after induction, refreshing emails, overthinking timelines, questioning myself, rearranging my plans, questioning whether my life was moving at all. And then one of the best days finally came. A day I had looked forward to for so long arrived quietly, gently, after all the noise in my head. And I remember thinking, “So this is what answered prayers feel like after fear has exhausted itself.” I still thank God for that day. Starting my internship did something to me. Not just because it was a professional milestone, but because it reminded me that delayed things are not always denied things. Sometimes God is simply building capacity in private before releasing it to you publicly.
🧚 22 also taught me that “almost” will never be enough. There was someone who looked perfect on paper. Someone good. Stable. Certain. Deeply caring. Protective. The kind of person many people would call a safe choice. And for a while, I genuinely wished maybe that would be enough. But somewhere deep inside myself, I knew it wasn’t. Because love is not only about safety. It is also about expansion. About freedom. About possibility. About feeling like your soul has room to breathe and dream and become. And the life ahead of me in that situation felt… small. Not bad, not toxic, not miserable. Just small, comfortable, easy…. A life where I would have had to shrink my ambitions into something more digestible. Less fulfilling. A life where risk would always be mistaken for danger. A life where protection slowly became limitation. I started choking. He was almost perfect. But almost is not always enough. Almost is still absent. And I think one of the hardest lessons of adulthood this year was realizing that you can deeply appreciate someone and still understand that they are not meant for the life you truly want. And the holiest thing you can do for you and them is to believe and take that quantum leap, and the net will appear.
🧚 Not strangely enough though, one of the best days of my life this year had nothing to do with career milestones or achievements. It was much quieter than that, much softer and much more human. For so long, a part of me existed only as an idea of “someday.” And then one day, suddenly, it became memory and no longer an imagination. A real moment. A real experience. A choice. And I think what made it so significant was the realization that I was growing up in irreversible ways. That life was no longer something I was merely anticipating from afar. I was finally living it, deeply.
🧚 This year, I also experienced disappointment in friendships in ways that deeply altered me. I learned that not everyone who walked beside you was assigned to walk with you forever. Some people reveal your wounds, while some others reveal your strengths and capabilities. And sometimes betrayal does not destroy you; it introduces you to the version of yourself that finally learns discernment. A level of growth that nobody can take from you. There are also friends who stay. People who feel like home. People who create space for you and make you feel safe and moist. People who see through your deficiencies and shortcomings and at the same time, see a person that’s evolving imperfectly but so beautifully and I’m grateful for those people 🫶🏼.
🧚 I think 22 stripped me bare in many ways. Especially in love, in attachment, and in how desperately I wanted to be heard and understood. I had my first real encounter with emotional avoidance this year, and strange as it sounds, I think it was God’s plan. Not because pain is holy, but because there were lessons I would never have learned any other way. Some experiences force you to confront the parts of yourself that beg to be chosen at the expense of your peace. And God knew I needed to stop doing that, so he taught me in a great love.
🧚 For a long time, I thought my huge capacity for love existed mainly for romance. I narrowed something so expansive down to eros. I carried this huge heart and poured it primarily into the idea of deep romantic love. But this year, I have discovered that love is so much bigger than that. Love exists in friendship. In presence, In service, In laughter, In generosity, In patience, In community In family In God. And maybe one of the most beautiful things I am learning is that my softness does not need romance in order to have somewhere meaningful to go. So in this new year, I want to love my friends loudly. I want to show up well. I want people around me to feel safe, known, considered, remembered, loved and genuinely cared for.
🧚 22 also changed how I see singleness. I used to view it as a waiting room. Now I see it as a special gift from God. A sacred space. A stretching season. A season that wants me to become rooted before I am ever asked to intertwine. I don’t know how I never saw it this way, but I desire to guard that gift carefully until God chooses to replace it with something even greater. And I will.
🧚 Another unexpected joy of twenty-two was discovering what it feels like to earn from something I genuinely love doing. It is still very much a baby. Still learning to walk. Still growing. Still teaching me patience. But there is something deeply satisfying about watching an idea begin to create value in the real world. About seeing people appreciate something you created with your own hands. About realizing that passion and purpose can exist alongside provision. The growth has been significant enough to encourage me and humble enough to keep me hungry. There is a unique kind of gratitude that comes from making money doing something you would have happily done for free. And I hope this year comes with the courage, discipline, and creativity to keep building on that foundation.
🧚This year taught me boundaries too. I learn new tiers of boundaries every year. God knew I needed to repeat this particular lesson. I used to overextend myself constantly. I showed up for everyone beyond my emotional and sometimes, physical capacity and then I’d quietly feel depleted in private. I confused self-sacrifice with love. I thought saying yes made me good. I thought enduring made me kind. I thought carrying everything everytime made me strong. But exhaustion eventually tells the truth your mouth refuses to say. So I have started saying no. Not cruelly. Not selfishly. Just honestly. And I am learning that loving people and loving yourself are not mutually exclusive things. Compromise should not require self-erasure. Boundaries are not walls; they are wisdom. I move differently now and at the beginning, it was uncomfortable. I had palpitations in my neck when I had to refuse something that didn’t sit right with me; but it’s getting better. With the consciousness that I do not have to hide. That I can own my truths without shrinking beside them. And I’m careful not to internalize people’s perceptions of me. I can reflect, yes, but who you think I am can never equal who I know I am, and who God says I am.
🧚While I grew up, I had questions that needed answers. Deep questions. Questions about God. About identity. About purpose. About what really happened. About what is really true. So I challenged myself to study the New Testament before my next birthday. And somewhere along the way of that, scripture has stopped being something I merely consume and has become something that consumes me back. My understanding of God deepened this year. My understanding of His love deepened. My understanding of grace deepened. I have a book where I comprehensively wrote down summaries and my understanding of each chapter of each book. And I’m going to show it to my kids someday. I think the greatest thing I did at 22, was humbly pursue God for myself, honestly and unashamedly. Not inherited faith or performative faitth. Just personal persistent pursuit. I sought Him sincerely, and he has met me everytime with more tenderness than I knew how to ask for. One particular week was heavier than other weeks of the year and I asked for a sign that he still heard me and I gave him a deadline because I was literally at the rope’s end. Before the end of that week, God sent me the sign. Without doubt, bold, clear, direct, reassuring. And he had sent it the very next day after I asked for it. I just didn’t see it on time. That was such a humbling experience for me. I truly felt seen and held. Like I’m really his babyyyyy!
🧚 22 also forced me to confront a strange grief; realizing I no longer recognized the version of myself that existed a few years ago, before certain experiences. I mourned her for a while. But then, I think part of growing up is understanding that you are not meant to remain who you remember. Sometimes life introduces fire to refine you into someone softer, wiser, steadier, and more whole. And honestly? I think who I am becoming is so much better that who I remember.
🧚 There is still so much bad in the world around me. Still so much disappointment. Still so much uncertainty. Still so much evil. Still so much fear. But there is also so much goodness. There are answered prayers. There is laughter that heals. There are people who stay. There is purpose. There is provision. There is growth. There is God.
🧚 And as I prepare to enter 23, I think the biggest difference is this: I know what I want now. And I pray for the grace to focus and to say no to everything else. This new year scares me because I know it will demand more from me. Bigger opportunities that will scare the * out of me. Greater responsibilities. New rooms. New risks. New versions of courage. I read somewhere that, maybe bravery is not the absence of fear, but simply the decision to walk forward anyway.
🧚So here is to 23. To becoming. To courage. To discernment. To softness. To deeper faith. To opportunities that will terrify me. To joy that is sustainable. To honesty. To peace. To growth.
And above all, to the God who carried me through twenty-two when I was bursting at the seams and taught me that even cracking is an invitation for light to enter. 🥂
🧚23 days to 23 years. And I am thankful for what was, grateful for what is, and hopeful for what is to come❤️
Happy 23rd, Champion.
Betterthanlife 