This birthday isn’t just about a number. Turning 40 feels like standing on a mountaintop, looking back at a wild, beautiful climb full of heartache, love, strength, and stories only life can write.
I came into the world early — eager, stubborn, and strong-willed — and I guess I never let up. Growing up, we were the Three Musketeers: my mom, my sibling, and me. I watched my mother work her tail off to keep us going. We didn’t always have much, but we had everything that mattered — love, laughter, and a bond that couldn’t be broken.
Some of my favorite memories? Riding around in our “monster truck,” yes monster truck.. ask my mom! it was hers haha!! chasing Texas storms in the Ford Probe, crossing state lines as a Marine Corps daughter, fishing and riding horses when we moved back to West Texas. Life was messy, chaotic, and filled with adventure.
I’ve lived a lot of life in these 40 years — gave birth to amazing kids, one of whom is autistic and teaches me more about strength every day. I’ve known unimaginable pain — losing my brother to suicide, watching my mother somehow keep standing through her deepest grief. She is my hero — as is my grandmother, whose quiet strength runs deep in my veins.
Now, with my POTS diagnosis, my heart races for reasons I can't control. But even in the hard moments, I remind myself: I’m still here. I’m still fighting. That’s all I’ve ever known how to do. This life hasn’t been easy — but it’s been mine, and it’s been a beautiful blessing.
At 40, I carry every laugh, every scar, every mile traveled, every tear shed, and every memory etched in my soul. My children are my strength, my mother and grandmother are my compass, and this birthday? It’s not an ending or a crisis — it’s a celebration of survival, of womanhood, of legacy.
Here’s to 40 years — and to the fire still burning in me for whatever comes next.