It ain’t perfect, but everything’s beautiful here
Let’s not even talk about where I’ve been since last year. Actually…lets. We have to.
Wine, Fine, 29
Last time we spoke was in 2022, after my most luxurious solo birthday retreat at Chateau Elan.
I’m a big believer in birthday energy. The way you feel on your birthday matters; and that experience quite literally set the tone for how I would spend the rest of the year.
Grazing board made for a friend’s 30th birthday
I did, in fact, leave the winery-resort to become a wine and charcuterie board connoisseur. I traveled often, celebrated, and treated myself more. I spent time trying new things solo (no surprise there).
At 29, it hit me. I was approaching this new decade, and it felt like all I had done up until that point was be hard on myself. For what? Life was still life-ing, regardless of the work I put in.
The solo birthday retreat taught me to ‘keep on dreaming’ yes, but it also challenged me to embrace and seize the moment. I realized I had been waiting for the “perfect” time; I needed to value life in the present more.
Street art from my first trip to New York City
The Perfect Position
Needless to say, the next 11 months, the last year of my 20s, were full of amazing memories. I vowed to show up more in friendships, stopped postponing joy (for work), released the need for control, and started doing more of what excites me. #BucketListThings.
This mindset led to my one-month-long stay in the New York City apartment of my dreams.
As a writer, I had always romanticized the idea of living in NYC. I planned to move there after college, get a job as a magazine editor, and eventually host big cultural events, like ComplexCon or Essence Festival.
Life happened and none of that did (lol). At least, it didn’t or hasn’t yet happened in the way or time-frame I expected. I learned to be ok with that, while simultaneously telling myself I was in the perfect position.
Gantry State Park in Long Island City, NYC (Queens)
At this point, I had become a full-time writer, working remotely. ✔️
My writing had been published in Forbes Magazine, which was still crazy to fathom. ✔️
Because I was living at home, I had NYC money in the bank. ✔️
I had no children or hard-core responsibilities outside of myself. ✔️
I was free to do whatever I wanted. ✔️
It’s crazy because in hindsight, God knew, & deep down, so did I.
We knew I didn’t need to spend my 20s struggling in the hustle and bustle of the city. Not my vibe - probably would have caved. And the possibility of multiple roommates who weren’t family? It was a strong no (for me). I love my alone time too much.
We knew what I really wanted: the impossible 1 bed, 2 bath corner unit with floor to ceiling windows in the nice area, near the train, minutes away from Manhattan. The fairytale version. Like..NYC, but soft life. Carrie Bradshaw but Black. That’s my vibe.
Daytime views from the apartment (the green couch 😍)
We also knew it was about more than just living in New York for the sake of. It was about the satisfaction of feeling like a boss, like I made it there and could make it anywhere. I deserved it and earned it. I was worthy from the start.
That experience validated the need for me to surrender and let go of the wheel—something I struggled with since graduating college. It taught me that life is still good; this was just the beginning of a new trajectory.
Everything worked out effortlessly. It was better than I could ever imagine. And it all happened in perfect, divine timing.
So, back to where I’ve been…
I can most confidently say I have been living life and doing me. I’ve been letting go. I’ve been having fun. I’ve been accepting my path as it comes. I’ve been making it. And still dreaming, too.
It ain’t perfect, but everything’s beautiful here. Word to my girl, who I also saw at Sol Blume Festival for the very first time last year. 🎉
You can’t go to NYC and not get a Cosmopolitan.
Cheers to more bucket list things. May life be sweet, where it was once bitter. May you find peace in your own unconventional journey; and trust the timing of it all.
Until the next Sunday.
Love,
Day
Read next: Part 2. Thirty, Thriving, Therapy, and Other Things (like taxes)
