Another Trip Around the Sun (And What I’m Holding Onto This Time)

So here I am. Another birthday. Another candle on whatever cake someone thought I needed. And honestly? I’m sitting here with this feeling in my chest that’s hard to name – it’s part gratitude, part ache, part fierce determination to squeeze every damn drop out of this wild ride we call life.

Because here’s the thing nobody tells you when you’re younger and invincible and thinking you’ve got all the time in the world: You don’t. None of us do. And this year? This year taught me that lesson in ways I wasn’t ready for.

I lost people this year. Good people. The kind who made rooms brighter just by walking in. The kind whose voices I can still hear in my head when I need guidance or a laugh or just someone who got it. And their absence? Man, it sits heavy. Not in a way that crushes, but in a way that reminds me every single day that this whole thing – this entire beautiful, messy, unpredictable journey – it’s borrowed time for all of us.

Every conversation is a gift. Every laugh. Every moment where someone really sees you and you really see them back.

So I’m done pretending that stuff matters. The latest whatever, the shinier version of something I already have, the keeping-up-with-whoever game that we all play sometimes without even realizing it. None of that? None of that means anything when you’re standing at a funeral thinking about all the conversations you wish you’d had, all the times you should’ve called, all the moments you let slip by because you thought there’d be more moments coming.

And here we are rolling into the Christmas season – and I know, I KNOW – it’s easy to get swept up in the commercial tidal wave of it all. The pressure to buy the perfect thing, to have the perfect gathering, to perform this choreographed version of joy that looks good on social media but feels hollow in your gut.

But what if we didn’t?

What if we remembered that the reason for this season has nothing to do with stuff and everything to do with showing up for each other? With creating space for connection that’s real and messy and true? With sharing stories and meals and time – that most precious commodity that we can never get back once we’ve spent it?

The people I lost this year? They didn’t leave me wishing I’d bought them fancier gifts. They left me wishing I’d given them more of my time. More of my presence. More of those moments where you’re both laughing so hard you can’t breathe, or sitting in comfortable silence, or diving deep into the conversations that actually matter about dreams and fears and what we’re really doing here.

I’m a recruiter, right? I spend my days helping people make career moves, talking about opportunities and compensation and growth trajectories. And all of that matters – don’t get me wrong. But you know what I’ve learned? The people who build lives that actually fulfill them? They’re the ones who understand that the career is just the vehicle. The relationships, the experiences, the impact on other humans – THAT’S the destination.

So as I blow out whatever candles are waiting for me today, here’s what I’m holding onto:

I’m holding onto the people who matter. My family – blood and chosen both. The friends who show up, who remember, who care enough to be real with me even when it’s uncomfortable. The clients who became confidants. The candidates who became lifelong connections. Every single person who’s touched my life and let me touch theirs.

I’m holding onto experiences. The meals shared, the late-night conversations, the sunrise moments, the spontaneous adventures, the quiet evenings, the celebrations, even the hard talks that left us both changed. Those are the treasures that actually appreciate in value.

And I’m holding onto this fierce, almost desperate gratitude for another trip around the sun. Because it’s a privilege. One that not everyone gets. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to waste it chasing things that don’t matter while the people and moments that DO matter slip through my fingers.

This Christmas season, I’m giving presence, not presents. Time, not things. Attention, not distractions. Real conversations, not small talk. Vulnerability, not performance. Love, not obligation.

Because we’re all on borrowed time, friends. Every single one of us. And the only thing we really have to show for our days here is how we made people feel, the connections we built, the love we shared, and the moments we fully inhabited instead of rushing through on our way to whatever we thought was next.

So here’s to another year. To the people we’ve lost who taught us what matters by their absence. To the people we still have who deserve our full attention and presence. To experiences over acquisitions. To depth over surface. To meaning over noise.

And to remembering – really remembering – that the reason for the season has always been about love showing up in human form. About connection. About being there for each other. About creating light in dark times and warmth in cold moments.

That’s what I’m carrying forward. That’s what I’m committed to. And that’s what I hope we can all give each other – not just this season, but every single day we’re blessed with on this spinning rock.

Happy birthday to me. Happy life to all of us.

Let’s make it count.

– Spinny