It’s May, and you know what that means: Taurus season, end of the school year madness, and self-care birthday season for moi.

I’m turning 36 this week, which feels... mellow. Like a chamomile tea of a birthday. And as I do every year, I’ve been combing through old journals and goal lists, asking the Big Questions™ like:

Who am I now? What did I say I’d do last year? And why is my back doing that weird thing again?

So today’s podcast episode is a little audio love note to that process—a soft, honest share about goals I set at 35, what actually happened (spoiler: not much), and how I’m learning to be okay with that.

What I Thought I’d Accomplish This Year:

Let’s rewind to May 2024, when I boldly declared that I would:

* 🧘‍♀️ Lose the baby weight (third kid, still holding strong)

* 📚 Finish and publish Guidebook to the Apocalypse

* 🎙️ Put myself out there—via podcast, Instagram, and Substack

And what did I actually accomplish?

* Started the podcast (hi, you're listening to it—win)

* Wrote some solid Substack posts

* Posted on Instagram… twice?

Oh, and I found out my thyroid is basically on a nap strike, which explains a lot about the lingering weight, fatigue, and general “I’m trying so hard and getting nowhere” vibes.

So, technically, that’s 1.5 out of 3? Maybe 1.75 if we’re being generous? But I’m not mad. Because what I’ve learned is...

Sometimes the “Failure” is Just the Plot Thickening

Honestly, I’ve spent this year walking the long, scenic route back to myself. Healing my body. Learning patience (unwillingly). Wrestling with a book project that’s been marinating since 2020 and refuses to be rushed.

If you’ve never tried to distill the rise and fall of civilizations, astrological turning points, and the end of the world as we know it into 75,000 digestible words… highly recommend. For character development (and keeping yourself chronically humbled).

I submitted a book proposal to a publisher. Didn’t make the cut. Reached out to an agent. Crickets. Had one of my history books scrubbed from the internet because of a DEI keyword flag. I mean... you can’t make this stuff up.

But the truth is, I am a writer (begrudgingly…it’s not as cool as it sounds). And writers write. So instead of waiting for permission or a glittery book deal, I’m just going to self-publish it. This June. No launch drama. No hype. Just... putting it into the world. Because done is better than perfect. (Say it with me.)

Instagram Still Feels Like High School

Can we talk about the emotional gymnastics of posting on Instagram?It’s like: “Here’s my deepest thought I’ve stewed on for a year” → 7 likes and a bot comment about cryptoMeanwhile someone posts “POV: you’re healing your feminine” in a bikini and gets 13,000 saves.

I know social media is just a tool, but sometimes it feels like an eternal popularity contest I never signed up for. And yet, here I am. Dipping a toe in, trying not to wince too hard when I get “perceived.” Because even if it’s cringey and inconsistent, it’s still brave to show up. And that’s worth something.

My Body is Loud Lately

Another theme this year: my body is talking, and I’m finally starting to listen.Loud and clear, she says:

* Slow down

* Rest more

* Stop trying to fix everything overnight

So here I am with a cranky lower back, a sluggish thyroid, and a newfound respect for yoga, minerals, and actual sleep. Not because I want to take the long road, but because apparently that’s the only road available right now.

The Gift of Already Having What You Want

Even with the failures, missed goals, and endless drafts, when I zoom out, life is good.

Like, really good. My kids are healthy and awesome and hilarious. My marriage is solid (helps I lucked out and married a great man). I love my home. My days are full of meaning and little rituals I once dreamed about. And when I ask myself why I want more money, the answer is always “to do more of exactly what I’m already doing.”

So maybe this year, my birthday goal is just this:

To be here. Really here. In my life. In my body. In this moment.Not plotting the next empire or business or strategy. Just being.

So what’s next?

Besides publishing Guidebook to the Apocalypse in June (hold me to it), I’m leaving this next year wide open. Letting life reroute me. Letting my own rhythms lead. Letting creative sparks surprise me. Less five-year plan, more five-minute peace.

Thanks for being here. For listening. For caring, even when my inner critic swears no one does. I’m so grateful.

Here’s to 36. And to making peace with being perceived.

xo,Marissa

P.S. Want to gift me something for my birthday? You already did just by reading this. But if you really want to make my heart happy, forward this post to a friend who loves astrology, cycles of time, or the existential drama of being online. 💌

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