Today, I turn 61.

And if you know me, you know that I have always looked at my birthday a little differently. September 5 isn’t simply the day I add another year to my age. It is my New Year’s Day.

It is the day I pause. The day I reflect. The day I think about where I have been, what I have survived, what I have celebrated, what I have released, what I have learned, and where I believe God is taking me next.

And whew…60 had some lessons for me.

Some beautiful. Some painful. Some freeing. Some that made me laugh. Some that made me cry. And quite a few that were absolutely NOT on my bingo card.

But here I am.

61.

Grateful. Growing. Loved. Unbothered. Expectant.

And perhaps more certain about myself, my God, my people, and my life than I have ever been. So, as I close the chapter on 60 and begin this new year of life, here are a few things I know now (in no particular order).

1. I Don’t Control Anything. God Is in Control.

This may be the biggest lesson of all.

I can plan. I can prepare. I can organize. I can anticipate. I can make lists, develop strategies, and think ten steps ahead. And then life will remind me that I am not in control. There is something incredibly freeing about finally accepting that.

God is God. I am not.

My responsibility is to be faithful with what He has given me, make the best decisions I can, pray, listen, move when He says move—and trust Him with everything else. I don’t have to know how everything is going to work out. I just have to know Who is working it out.

2. You Have to Choose You—even When Others Don’t.

There comes a point when you realize that waiting for other people to validate you, prioritize you, understand you, or choose you can become its own kind of prison. Sometimes you have to choose yourself.

Choose your peace.

Choose your boundaries.

Choose your dreams.

Choose your healing.

Choose what you know God has called you to do.

Choosing yourself doesn’t mean you don’t love other people. It means you finally understand that loving others should not require abandoning yourself.

3. Therapy Is Essential.

Yes, I am a therapist. And yes, I believe therapists need therapy too.

There is something powerful about having a space where you don’t have to be the strong one, the counselor, the professor, the leader, the wife, the mother, the friend, the problem-solver, or the person everybody expects to have the answer. You can simply be.

Therapy gives us space to tell the truth—to ourselves first. Healing requires honesty, and sometimes we need someone to help us hear what our own hearts have been trying to tell us.

4. I Love Me.

Not the résumé. Not the titles. Not the accomplishments. Not what I can do for other people.

Me.

I love the woman I have become. I love the woman who is still becoming. I love my strengths and can extend grace to my imperfections. I can celebrate the parts of myself that have taken years to embrace.

At 61, I don’t need to shrink myself to make other people comfortable. I don’t need to apologize for taking up space. I don’t need permission to love the woman God created me to be.

I love me.

And that took some years to be able to say without qualification.

5. My Real Friends Matter. Cultivate Those Relationships.

Everybody you know isn’t your friend. Everybody who celebrates publicly isn’t necessarily invested privately. And everybody who has been around for a long time isn’t automatically entitled to remain close.

But those real ones? The people who check on you. The people who pray for you. The people who can sit with your joy without competing with it and sit with your pain without trying to fix it. The ones who tell you the truth. The ones who show up. The ones who know the whole story and still say, “I’m here.” Those relationships deserve cultivation.

Call them. Visit them. Celebrate them. Check on them. Travel with them. Laugh until your stomach hurts with them. Tell them you love them.

Don’t become so busy doing life that you forget to nurture the people who make life sweeter.

6. Hard Things Are Hard.

That’s it.

That’s the lesson.

Sometimes we spend so much energy trying to make difficult experiences sound inspirational that we don’t give ourselves permission to simply acknowledge:

This is hard.

Everything doesn’t need an immediate silver lining.

Sometimes faith looks like trusting God while simultaneously admitting that something hurts. Sometimes strength looks like crying. Sometimes courage looks like getting out of bed. Sometimes healing looks like saying, “I don’t like this. I don’t understand this. But I am going to keep going.”

Hard things are hard.

And we can survive hard things without pretending they weren’t hard.

7. Life Is Short. Be Intentional and Enjoy Every Single Day.

I understand this differently at 61 than I did at 31, 41, or even 51.

Time is a gift.

I don’t want to spend mine constantly waiting for the next thing. The next vacation. The next accomplishment. The next milestone. The next opportunity. The next “someday.”

Today is part of my life too.

I want to laugh today. Love today. Rest today. Travel when I can. Eat the good food. Wear the outfit. Take the picture. Buy the flowers. Sit on the porch. Call my people. Dance when the music comes on. Say “I love you.” Do the things that make my soul smile.

I don’t want to merely accumulate years.

I want to live them.

8. People Aren’t Thinking About You Like You Think They Are.

This one is liberating.

Wear it. Post it. Try it. Start it. Change your mind. Go by yourself. Say no. Say yes. Launch the thing. Take the trip.

People are far more occupied with their own lives than we imagine.

And even when they do have an opinion? They get to have one. You don’t have to organize your life around it.

9. Some Relationships Are Performative. Find People You Don’t Have to Perform For.

This lesson has been significant.

There are relationships where you slowly realize everyone is playing a role.

You show up the right way. Say the right thing. Smile at the right time. Maintain the image.

But real relationship should give you somewhere to exhale.

I want people in my life who don’t require the performance. People I can call when I’m not okay. People who can see me without the titles, accomplishments, responsibilities, or public version of myself. People who don’t need me to impress them. People who simply love Denise.

Those are my people.

And at 61, I am leaning deeply into them.

10. I Am Exactly Where I Am Supposed to Be.

Maybe my life doesn’t look exactly like I once imagined it would at 61.

That’s okay.

Because I’ve stopped measuring my life against an old blueprint. I am where I am supposed to be. Not because everything is perfect. Not because every question has been answered. Not because I have accomplished everything I want to accomplish. But because I trust that God has been present in every chapter.

Even the detours. Even the disappointments. Even the endings. Even the unexpected beginnings. Nothing has been wasted.

So, What Will 61 Look Like?

I don’t know.

And maybe that’s the point.

I spent enough years believing I needed to know exactly what came next. This year, I want something different.

I don’t want to simply wake up every morning and exist. I want to wake up expecting.

Expecting God’s goodness.

Expecting His blessings.

Expecting laughter.

Expecting love.

Expecting new opportunities.

Expecting meaningful work.

Expecting beautiful surprises.

Expecting God to continue writing a story that is bigger than anything I could have planned for myself.

I am going to keep loving my people.

I am going to keep choosing myself.

I am going to keep doing my own work.

I am going to keep going to therapy.

I am going to keep laughing loudly.

I am going to keep loving deeply.

I am going to keep protecting my peace.

I am going to keep living unbothered by things that don’t deserve my energy.

And I am going to keep trusting God.

Because if 60 taught me anything, it is that I don’t have to control the journey to trust the One who does.

So here’s to 61.

To living instead of existing.

To authenticity instead of performance.

To intention instead of obligation.

To real friendships.

To choosing me.

To loving me.

To doing hard things.

To enjoying ordinary Tuesdays just as much as extraordinary Saturdays.

To expecting goodness.

To trusting God.

And to whatever lessons this next trip around the sun has waiting for me.

I’m walking into 61 with my hands open, my heart full, my people close, and my faith intact.

I don’t know exactly what’s coming.

But I expect it to be good.

Happy New Year to me.

Hello, 61. I’m ready.