Another Year Around the Sun

From Winter’s Grief to Fall’s Stillness

In Your Own Home - Cleo Sol

It’s been a while since I last posted, but this feels like the right moment to come back to the virtual page. With the return of fall, my travels around the sun come to a rest stop. I treat my birthdays like most people treat New Years: with deep introspection, gratitude, and a dash of intention setting. This year feels especially significant for me.

Last September was a milestone birthday, and I welcomed it with laughter, love, and distraction. I thought reaching that milestone would mean ease—that I had done the hard work of getting to know myself already. Instead, it opened a door to even deeper questions, about who I am, what I truly value, and what I needed to let go of in order to soar.

So instead of one long reflection, I’m capturing this year as a list—moments, lessons, and intentions that shaped me and will carry me forward.

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Gifts from the Sun’s latest cycle

1. The year winter threatened to capsize me with a level of grief that nearly drowned me.

2. The year grief left me feeling crippled, but even in that heaviness, seeds of reflection began to root.

3. The year I started to see more clearly what I value and what I want to nurture.

4. The year I cried so much, I ran out of tears. Thank God for punctal plugs.

5. The year spring arrived like a release—lighter air, lighter days, reminding me I could breathe again.

6. The year I was still sore from all the crying, but my tears began to shift toward gratitude and joy.

7. The year Cleo Sol’s music became a mirror, holding both my rawness and my healing at the same time.

8. The year I went to her concert alone and discovered solitude can be sacred.

9. The year I traveled to Puerto Rico and felt the grounding power of family, roots, and familiar rhythms.

10. The year summer reminded me what it feels like to move through life without heaviness.

11. The year I made it my business to be outside, chasing joy and saying yes to what made me feel alive.

12. The year I didn’t leave much room for overthinking—I struck while the match was hot.

13. The year it worked out, because this summer felt like the best I’ve had in a long time.

14. The year I remembered freedom in the simplest ways—the stretch of daylight, the warmth of the sun, the ease of laughter.

15. The year I saw Beyoncé live and was inspired by her commitment to herself and her growth.

16. The year I realized that honoring and trusting the process takes time and energy, even after 30 years.

17. The year when the transition back to work was rough, but the memory of summer’s light stayed with me.

18. The year I learned that clarity doesn’t come all at once, but in small, hard-won pieces.

19. The year I began to trust myself more deeply.

20. The year I loosened my grip on control and let things unfold.

21. The year friendships shifted, and I learned that endings can also be teachers.

22. The year romantic interests didn’t last, but I realized outside love isn’t the only measure of fulfillment.

23. The year I softened the voice inside me that’s so quick to criticize.

24. The year I learned to meet myself with more patience.

25. The year I realized I didn’t misjudge, I allowed space for reality to reveal itself. That was wisdom, not error.

26. The year I saw that I didn’t waste time—I tested the hope honestly, and it freed me from carrying a weight longer than necessary.

27. The year I honored the hopeful part of myself—the part that still believes in people’s ability to grow, in second chances, in the possibility of love. That part isn’t naïve; it’s tender.

28. The year I found people who gave as much as I gave.

29. The year I learned the value of reciprocity, and how it sustains life.

30. The year I felt nourished instead of drained by the people around me.

31. The year I remembered that community is what feeds the soul.

32. The year I danced like no one was watching (most of the time no one is).

33. The year I honored my goal of writing more. I wrote for at least 95% of the year!!!

34. The year I fulfilled my promise to share more of my writing.

35. The year I knew, above all, that I am sustained, not alone.

36. The year I slowed down with fall, letting the earlier sunsets and cooler air invite reflection instead of resistance.

37. The year I reminded myself that birthdays are not deadlines, but pauses—a turning point to look back with gratitude and ahead with hope.

38. The year I gave myself permission to rest without guilt.

39. The year I remembered that uncertainty isn’t emptiness, it’s space for possibility.

40. The year I trusted that what’s meant for me will meet me where I am.

41. This year, I will let joy interrupt me as often as it wants to.