A Threshold, Not a Number
“How old are you?”
A question that arrives suddenly, like lightning in a clear sky.
If I answered with math, it would be easy: I was born in 1988 — just do the calculation.
But when I set numbers aside, I realize the truth is much more complex.
Since 2016, time hasn’t moved linearly for me.
It feels as if it stopped. Suspended. Frozen in a long stasis.
A season in which I put everything on hold except finding myself again.
And yet — they were not useless years.
They were not empty.
They were years of reconstruction. Of the heart. Of identity. Of the soul.
Years in which I looked at my wounds without needing them to disappear. Years in which I learned to stay. To understand. To let go.
I watched pieces of me fall away, and others remain — truer, deeper.
It was silent work. Profound. At times exhausting. But necessary.
And now, in this 2026, something feels different.
I feel rebirth. In Christ — and through Him — I finally feel ready.
Ready to dream again. Ready to build. Ready to welcome projects, adventures, life changes.
I find myself in an in-between land.
I am no longer who I was. But I am becoming who I was meant to be.
I’m approaching a birthday that isn’t just a number — it’s a threshold.
One I’m ready to cross without fear.
Free. Finally.
Free to try. Free to feel everything.
So how old am I, really?
Almost 28.
Because that’s how I feel: as if I’m standing at the door of 30 with an open heart, with the certainty that everything is possible — and that only now my life is beginning to take shape.
"Not an age. A crossing"
