Helloooo my lovelies, I wasn’t sure if this blog would exist today, if I’m being honest. It’s been a big week. I have lived a little fast and loose over the past seven days (and as I write this, I’m nursing a hangover, so please be patient with me).

Today, I want to talk about regret…or more specifically, having none. (That’s what I’m telling myself, anyway, to fend off any post-clubbing hangxiety from last night.)

This week was surprisingly social. As it was my birthday, I received an influx of messages from friendly faces, some familiar, some new and it opened the door for long overdue catch-ups. I’m sure many of you who are also getting older can relate: life gets busy, and we don’t get to stay in touch with the people we love as much as we’d like, outside of the usual suspects.

But these conversations… they brought me a strange kind of peace.
The people in question, ranging in age from 22 to 70 were all in completely different stages of life.

Some are still finding their footing: in careers, in love, in identity.
Some seem to have it sorted, or at least have made peace with not knowing exactly where they’ll end up, and some are still healing, trying to mend old wounds and come to terms with who they once were.

But in every conversation, there was one common denominator: everyone has regrets. And yet, what separates peace from pain isn’t the regret itself, it’s what we choose to do with it.

I used to carry mine like I was trying to hit a PB on my deadlifts, dragging the weight of past choices, missed chances, the people I let hurt me, and the pieces of myself I gave away too willy-nilly.

If you’ve read my previous blogs, you’ll know I’ve been working on this. I’ve made peace with my past and with every sunrise, every journal entry, boring mundane day, that peace gets a little bit stronger.
Because here’s the truth: you can’t go back. You can’t rewrite the past

You can and should move forward in a way that honours where you’ve been while leaving room for who you’re still becoming.

So I turned 23 on Thursday, and last night, I celebrated with a mixture of old and new faces, and at one point, as I laughed with people who’ve seen different versions of me over the years, I felt something close to euphoria. (Granted... it may have been the shots.)

But seriously, I remember thinking: How lucky am I? How lucky am I to have survived every version of myself who didn’t think she could keep going? To have walked away from things I once thought I couldn’t live without, relationships, habits, mindsets. To wake up now with a little more clarity, strength, and self-respect.

How lucky am I to sit in a room full of people who don’t just tolerate my existence but see me?
Who acknowledges not just the good moments, but the growth as well.
Who has witnessed me from my angsty years into my early adulthood, even when it was a bit messed up, even when I didn’t know where I was headed?

And how lucky am I to know that even my biggest mistakes, the ones I once thought I’d never bounce back from, led me here. So last night I cheers myself:

To healing.
To grow.
To passion.
To purpose.

There’s this quote by Maya Angelou, a wise, brilliant woman that I come back to often:

“Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.”

So no, I don’t have regrets.
I have lessons.
I have stories.
I have proof that even when life felt like it was falling apart, it was rearranging itself to make room for something bigger and better.

I’m still learning. Still growing. Still fucking things up sometimes but I’m proud of the direction I’m walking in. And if you’re reading this, I hope you can be proud of yourself too. Not just for where you are, but for everything you’ve been through to get here, including those awkward, cringey, embarrassing moments that still replay in your brain as you’re trying to fall asleep.

You don’t need a birthday to celebrate your time on earth, every day is a blessing.

Until next time, take care of yourselves.
I will be spending the rest of my day in bed like a hermit in its shell, with a bottle of water in one hand and TikTok in the other.

Love y’all,

Liz xx