Terri Beavers Every May, I celebrate turning 29 again. I’ve been 29 for so many years now that honestly, I deserve an award for consistency. At this point, I’m pretty sure my birth certificate is just tired of arguing with me.
Birthdays feel different as you get older though.
When we’re young, birthdays are exciting. We think about cake, parties, presents, staying up too late, and making wishes that somehow involve becoming rich, famous, or marrying a boy band member. Then one day you wake up and throw your back out reaching for a sock, and suddenly birthdays become less about getting older and more about wondering why your knees sound like bubble wrap.
Aging is strange.
Inside my head, I still feel young. I love still love cozy blankets, coffee, music, and late-night conversations. I still think about the road trips I used to take before failed back surgery and chronic pain changed so much of my life. And I still think about all the places I wanted to see and all the things I thought I’d do “one day.”
But the body changes the rules.
Living with chronic pain changes things too. People who don’t deal with it often don’t realize how much it affects every tiny part of your life. It’s not just pain. It’s exhaustion. It’s canceled plans. It’s watching your body become unreliable even though your mind still wants to live life the same way it used to. Organizations like the American Chronic Pain Association do a wonderful job helping people understand what chronic pain really looks like behind the scenes.
There are days I miss the old version of myself fiercely.
I miss jumping in the car for random road trips with snacks stuffed into a tote bag and music blasting while we chased absolutely nothing except freedom and fun. Back then, I never thought about whether my body could physically handle a trip. I just went.
Some of my favorite memories still come from those drives.
Stopping at little gas stations in tiny towns.
Finding weird roadside attractions.
Eating greasy food at midnight that would absolutely fight for my life now.
Laughing until someone snorted.
Watching the scenery change through the windows while feeling like the world was wide open.
Road trips used to feel endless in the best possible way.
Now, chronic pain keeps me home most of the time and honestly, mostly in bed. That’s a difficult thing to explain to people unless they’ve lived it themselves. You grieve parts of your old life while still trying to appreciate the life you have now.
That’s the part nobody really prepares you for about aging.
Sometimes growing older means learning how to adapt instead of conquer.
I’ve learned that happiness looks different now.
Years ago, happiness was packing a suitcase and heading somewhere exciting. Now sometimes happiness is a low pain day, fresh sheets, good coffee, a funny text message, or finding a comfortable position in bed that doesn’t make my spine feel personally attacked.
You start celebrating smaller things.
And honestly? Smaller things matter.
I’ve also learned people become more important as you age. The older I get, the less impressed I am by fake perfection and the more I value kindness, humor, loyalty, and people who stay when life gets messy.
Especially the ones who sit with you through the hard seasons.
Aging also teaches you what doesn’t matter anymore.
I care a whole lot less about impressing people.
I no longer panic over tiny imperfections.
I don’t need everyone to like me.
I’m too tired for drama.
And if stretchy pants are wrong, I truly do not want to be right.
One thing I have not learned?
How to stop buying cozy blankets.
Apparently every year after 40 unlocks a new level of blanket addiction. I don’t make the rules.
I also still haven’t learned how to browse Target online for one item without ending up with twelve things in my cart that I didn’t need, two snacks, and emotional support candles.
Some things never change.
And maybe that’s good.
Birthdays can feel emotional when you live with chronic pain because you become very aware of time. You think about everything you’ve done, everything you still hope to do, and everything your body has changed along the way.
But I’ve realized something important.
Getting older is still a gift.
Even on painful days.
Even on exhausting days.
Even on the days where I miss who I used to be.
There is still laughter.
Still memories.
Still love.
Still coffee.
Still music.
Still sunsets.
Still stories left to tell.
I’ve also learned the importance of slowing down and creating comfort where you can. Whether that’s curling up with a good book, surrounding yourself with soft blankets, or finding little things that make difficult days easier, comfort matters more than ever as we age. I spend a lot more time creating cozy spaces now than I ever did when I was younger, and honestly, I think that’s part of healing too. Sites like Pinterest always give me inspiration for creating calm, cozy bedrooms and peaceful little corners of home. I also spend way too much time browsing cozy décor ideas on HGTV when I should probably be sleeping.
And honestly, if I’m being real, 29 looks pretty good on me for the upteenth time.
Maybe next year I’ll turn 29 again too.
