Messages From Her: Reflections on Turning 28

This year, my birthday falls on the same weekday I was born— Friday, the day dedicated to Venus and love. This happens in intervals, and supposedly, it resets every 28 years. Like Saturn’s return, these moments have come full circle to the beginning of existence. It’s ironic, then, the presence of so many celestial events in the days leading up to my birthday.

As I write this line, I notice a hawk flying in circles around the cross belonging to the church I was baptized in, and recently rediscovered. Spirit often speaks in ways that are as synchronic as they are mysterious.

With God gliding through the planets and constellations, perfectly aligning the celestial energies of truth and love, I’ve been asked to follow the rhythms and meet myself once again. Most importantly, I’ve been asked to look — to watch my reflection staring back at me and be honest about what I see, what I feel.

The truth?

I see the eyes of a child who is sad and tired.

I take a moment and look up at the sky. A cowrie shell is carved in the clouds, the sun’s light shining through its open mouth. A reminder that Spirit is speaking.

As I look back on my life, I can’t help but feel a sense of sadness. If I’m meant to be honest with myself, I must admit I’m nowhere near where I envisioned myself to be while entering my late twenties.

I’ve slowly watched my goals and dreams move further and further out of my reach until eventually I was falling, trying to hold on to a vision that no longer existed. But I couldn’t let go, and before I knew it, I was surrounded by pieces of myself that shattered as I hit the ground.

I wanted something to change, to be different. But the person I used to be felt like a mask, like a kind of clay doll that’s hollow inside. I would reach within myself, wave my hands around, feel emptiness against my fingertips, and grasp nothing. I was unrecognized.

I realized the skin I wore had one fit— survival. My lack of internal recognition came from not knowing who I was outside of trauma, chaos, and a cycle of self-punishments rooted in the belief I was unworthy.

It was automatic, unconscious. I didn’t know another way to be, and until I lost the dreams of my life, I underestimated the extent of the pain I’d been carrying. It’s hard to face myself and know this. Harder yet to look into my own eyes and face the reasons why there is less light. 

Now, as the wind blows kisses against my cheek, I do as God asks and face the truth I’ve refused to see for so long. For me, turning 28 doesn’t look like the celebration of marriage, children, career, or family. Those milestones will likely never look normal for me. Instead, I celebrate looking at my life with clearer eyes.

I celebrate the moments I spend reconnecting to my inner child, to who I used to be before I had to survive. I celebrate being able to put names to the things that have caused me pain. 

I celebrate being brave enough to look myself in the eyes and see who I am and what happened to me. I celebrate my ability to truly grieve. Because in darkness, we can create the brightest, most beautiful light yet to see.

As I turn 28, I celebrate being able to see myself for the very first time. The universe and all its cosmic energies welcome me, and everyone who is on a similar journey, with love and open arms.

This birthday, I come home to myself and to my heart. Here, love now begins.