February twelfth, the day the curtains raised and my existence on the stage that we call life began. I don’t know why I’ve always hated birthdays. Perhaps it stems from my parents tipping extra to the servers so they would sing happy birthday as loud as possible as I tried my absolute best to keep a smile on my mortified little face. When I analyze it and dig even deeper I realize that all of my birthdays have been depressing. I can’t say I know the root cause but I do know that I dreaded the day and now in my adult age I even neglect to tell anyone about this supposed joyous occasion. Then the craziest thing happened, I woke up on the anniversary of the day in which I was born and actually for the first time in a very long time, if ever, I enjoyed myself. I know this has a lot to do with all of the self-help and mental conditioning that I’ve been relentlessly working on over the past year and a half and a lot to do with the company that I keep but it was so nice to wake up surrounded by love and appreciation. Lately I’ve been counting everyday as a day of birth. A new day for new opportunities. I wake up in gratitude and in a better state of mind than I was in the day prior.  But on this day, the twelfth of February, I really loved enjoying the gifts that the universe has given me. Oh, and the homemade vegan pancakes didn’t hurt :)

Friends, I hope you all learn to love your life and appreciate who and what you have. This is our only go at this thing so make it count.