When I was 22 and a recent college graduate struggling in her first real job and the daunting dangers of adulthood, I realized that I had never made a major life choice for myself. Not my undergraduate school, not my undergraduate major. Not my graduate school, not my graduate major. No choice that would shape my identity for years to come. How many more life choices would be made for me without my consent?

I didn’t have the autonomy. I was told again and again that if given a choice, I would destroy my life. Throughout my twenties, I had to fight the hardest battles to make even the smallest choices. I have so much heartache for the blocked paths and for the woman I could have been. I felt confined to a cage too small and didn’t know how to escape. How do you love yourself when you hate so many aspects of yourself? How do you love yourself when you didn’t shape your own identity?

It wasn’t until a few months before my 29th birthday that I was able to start making my own choices. I had been stuck in the muck of dissatisfaction for long enough. I couldn’t see how I could endure a life without agency over my own future.

Sometimes to get to the path where we belong, the path the brings joy, we have to cut a trail through the woods, braving the the wilderness and thorns. We have to venture through the darkness to get to the light in the distance.

A lot of things happened out of order and while it’s frustrating, I have to remind myself that it’s just part of my journey.

I turned 33 today and I love who I’m becoming as I reclaim my autonomy. As I heal old wounds, I’m starting to accept my past self. Despite the difficulties of the last few years, I’m grateful for how things turned out and how far I’ve come.