I turned 32 this year.

I was someone that had a hard time approaching 30. Leaving my 20s behind and starting a new decade was daunting. I was somewhat excited because people do speak well about their 30s once they are there, but somehow I also wasn’t feeling okay with how fast time was passing.

As fate would have it, my grandpa passed away 10 days before my 30th birthday, and his funeral was just before the birthday itself. So even if I had wanted to ring it in in a big way, that just wasn’t how it went. I took the day off, went to a yoga class, cried, and I think just couch-rotted the rest of the day. But it was okay. I’m at peace with that. He was a great man, a beloved grandfather, and I have no problem at all with the fact that I spent my 30th birthday holding space for his memory and all the feelings that came with saying goodbye.

Thirty-one was bittersweet. I was on the tail end of a bad Crohn’s flare – on a path towards healing but still dealing with a lot of damage. My husband and I went for a candle-pouring date, a bar snack and dinner, and a few bites into the entree, I realized I had made some bad dietary decisions and was sick before dessert.

This year when 32 rolled around, I hadn’t given the year much thought. At face value, 32 seemed pretty inconsequential. But once the day came, I was … GOOD. And I realized that the defining difference between the sense of dread I had at 30 and 31 and this one was my health. At 30 and 31 I was either very hands-on with investigating the status of my Crohn’s or in the trenches of symptom management. At 31 I was sick, underweight, and unable to enjoy food.

But this year …. in what I am finally, solidly, claiming as remission, I am amazed at the difference. I have energy, strength and joy … joy in food, in my ability to keep up with life, and in the fact that I truly feel good. Better than I have in over four years.

Sometimes it stops me from thinking of my then and now. I can do things as simple as the dishes without needing to stop and catch my breath or hug my stomach. I can do a power yoga class and hold my own. My doctors are no longer worried. (There’s a whole story about how I scared my GI once when he called to tell me he reviewed a recent CT scan and thought I should get to an ER ASAP …. and I didn’t receive his voicemail until I had just arrived in California for a girls’ weekend. Don’t worry. I knew my body and that I was okay and I made it back to Ohio without incident. My doctor and I laugh about it now).

The first few months of 31 were hard, but most of the year was very good to me. And 32, I feel great, I look great (yeah, I said it), and I am very much looking forward to what this year has in store for me.

Photo from my 32nd birthday dinner with my family. We went for tapas and had a blast sampling so many different plates. So much seafood, flavor and wine … probably too much wine. My toddler tried octopus and squid, and I ate food without regret. The rest of the long weekend was filled with daily yoga, a pro volleyball game and more family time. Couldn’t have asked for a better birthday.