I remember how excited I was to turn 33 solely because that was the age that Jesus died on the cross. I’m not trying to follow in his footsteps, and I am certainly no saint. But there was something uplifting about 33.
First, there was the ending of my relationship. At 33, I knew I couldn’t waste anymore time on a man who didn’t meet my standards or my needs. Let’s face it. My eggs aren’t getting any younger and neither is my vagina. Out the door went Luke and I was single again.
The latter didn’t sit right with me, 33.
Now, I know it was for the best. After some perspective and many conversations with Luke, it was apparent he is not the man for me.
My career was a different story. I left a job I couldn’t stand only four months after turning 33. I began to attend conferences for female bloggers. I learned so much there. I was able to connect with Latinas and recognized that I am on the right path. That my brand is intact. I just had to take one more step. I had an epiphany. And I vowed to publish Love Trips. I accomplished that dream on January 2012.
Three months shy of 34.
So, you were amazing, 33. You taught me to walk away from a futile and fruitless relationship. You pushed me and struck the fear in me (I was so afraid I wouldn’t finish Love Trips before 34). And, of course, you brought me closer to Jesus, God, my spirituality.
I am exactly where I need to be. At 33. And now at 34. And for that, I thank you.