Posted on by shirindawna · 1 Comment

we were girls together.

i had every intention of writing something wise, something soaked in meaning and sentiment on my 44th birthday. something that would wrap up the year and put a neat little bow on it. but you know what actually happened? i spent the day with an old friend, one of those rare ones who’s been around since i was…eleven? we were girls together, trying to grow up faster than we should have, figuring out life as we went. we met in junior high, survived high school, and even when she switched schools our senior year, we stayed in touch. life has a way of pulling people apart and tossing them back together at the oddest moments. seeing her again felt like coming home, like slipping on a favorite, worn-in jacket i hadn’t worn in years but still fit perfectly.

we spent hours talking, catching up on the past few years, diving deep into our lives and all the ways they’ve unraveled and tangled back up again. naturally, the conversation turned to people from those early years, friends i’d kept around for way too long. i filled her in on a few names and mentioned the latest drama. she laughed, shaking her head, and somehow that laugh held this perfect mix of familiarity and validation, as if we both knew i’d finally let go of things that never quite fit.

it wasn’t a day of profound reflection or planned revelations. it was simple. full of laughs, of catching up, of that easy comfort that only comes with a friend who’s known you for decades. it reminded me that some connections stay rooted, no matter the years or distance.

so here’s to 44. i have no idea what’s waiting for me, but maybe i don’t need to. maybe all i need is a little laughter, a few good friends, and the reminder that sometimes coming home isn’t a place; it’s a person who knew you back when.

Posted on by shirindawna

let them.

it’s become a mantra of sorts…a quiet, almost passive permission we give to the world around us. let them. it’s simple, freeing in theory, but it’s not that easy. it’s the ultimate “don’t sweat the small stuff” whisper to ourselves, yet it’s much more nuanced than that.

let them leave without explaining themselves. let them cancel plans last minute. let them say what they need to say, even if it cuts. let them live however they need to live. the concept is about relinquishing control, the impossible, gut-wrenching, soul-baring release of your grip on other people’s actions and, by default, your reactions.

i’ve tried it. letting people do their thing, letting them show you who they are without you trying to manage, control, or convince them otherwise. let them, right? but here’s the thing: letting them doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. it doesn’t mean you don’t sit there with the silence after the storm, feeling the ache of the absence, the sting of unmet expectations. it doesn’t mean you stop caring.

but it does mean you stop holding your breath for people to be different than who they are.

i used to get wrapped up in the idea of people. how they could be, if they just did this or that, or if life hadn’t jaded them, or if they cared less about what others think, or if they just tried harder, or if they weren’t so insecure. the fantasy of potential is a dangerous thing. but “let them” is a reality check. people are who they are, and they will do what they want to do with or without your input, your nudging, or your wishes.

so what happens when you “let them?” it doesn’t mean you lose your boundaries or lower your standards. it just means you stop taking on the burden of changing someone else. you step back and let them walk their path, make their choices. and you decide what you want to do with the aftermath.

let them show you who they are, and believe them when they do.

there’s a quiet power in that. it’s not about giving up or being indifferent; it’s about acknowledging that everyone is living their own experience. the way they treat you, the choices they make, that’s their business. how you respond? well, that’s yours.

so, the next time someone disappoints you, falls short, or doesn’t meet your unspoken expectations? let them. and let yourself walk away if you need to.

because at the end of the day, it’s not just about letting them do what they do, it’s about letting yourself choose peace over control. and maybe, just maybe, that’s the real win.

Posted on by shirindawna

normal girls are boring.

i’ve noticed something about myself. i hold off on writing about health scares until there’s some kind of ending. some neat resolution to wrap it all up in a bow. it’s easier that way, isn’t it? you wait until the answers come, tuck the panic into a little box, and move on with your life. today, i don’t have that luxury. there’s no bow, no resolution. this week has been brutal. we’re stuck in the gut-wrenching space where everything is just…uncertain. everything is a question, and every answer feels like smoke slipping through your fingers. “it might be nothing, but it could be something.” and this time, it’s not me in the hot seat. it’s him. my husband.

people keep saying, “don’t worry, it’s probably fine.” i know they mean well, and maybe they’re right (oh please, let them be right). but i’ve heard those words before. they said it about my dad, and it wasn’t fine. they said it about me, and it wasn’t fine then, either.

so, here i am, stuck in this messy middle, the space between hope and fear, where every second feels heavier than the last. my mind’s racing, and i’m rationing my energy like it’s the last bit of air in the room. i’m careful, so careful, about who i let in. i know one wrong word could send me spiraling, and i can’t afford that right now.

i hate this part. the uncertainty. the waiting. all of it.