So on Friday I turned 25.
It doesn't really feel much different from 24. I have a sneaky suspicion that 26 won't feel much different at the time, either. (Though according to my insurance company, I magically became more mature on Friday so they knocked $300 off. SCORE.)
But I am different, in so many ways, than the person I was 365 days ago.
I have a new job, a new department, new coworkers, a new boss and a slightly changed job description. The dream job at Yale is perhaps gradually turning into the dream career.
I have fewer student workers, but almost complete autonomy in how I manage and teach them.
I'm single. And for the first time in a very long time, have accepted that I don't need a relationship to make me happy.
I'm down another grandparent, and grateful that he is no longer in pain and confusion.
My relationship with one of my cousins is improving. We actually communicate.
My relationship with my grandmother has also taken a turn for the positive.
I'm getting back into the art groove (photography, ceramics, and crocheting), so that I can go get an MFA someday.
I'm almost migraine-free. I get one every 3 months instead of one every 2 weeks.
I've learned that it's OK to tell people no: I have limits and everyone needs to respect them.
I've also learned that when people offer to help you, they want you to let them help you. And they'll do a lot for you if you let them.
I know more than I ever wanted to about canine digestive tracts. And dog poop.
I stepped up to the plate for my choir (which is more of an ongoing project).
I decided to stop being nice all the time to everyone, especially here on my blog. This is MY spot, MY space. (No one's forcing you to read it!)
Hopefully 25 will teach me just as much 24 did. (Though I would appreciate not having a lot of crap thrown at me in the course of one week again, Universe. Just sayin'.)
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