And just like that, the months leading to my birthday are slowly unfolding again. It honestly feels strange how quickly time moves now. One moment it was January, full of fresh planners, ambitious goals, and promises to ourselves. The next thing I know, I’m sitting here in late May already thinking about Scotland, Norway, airport windows, birthday reflections, and all the little dreams waiting quietly in the middle of the year.

Life has been moving fast lately. Too fast sometimes.

But despite the exhaustion, the uncertainty, the night shifts, and the days where my mind feels fuller than my actual schedule, I can still say this honestly: this year has been gentle with me in ways I didn’t expect.

JUNE & JULY

There’s something deeply comforting about having things to look forward to again.

This year, those moments come in the form of plane tickets, countdowns, music, and places I once only admired from afar through travel blogs and Pinterest photos. Soon, I’ll be flying to Scotland for Barrio Fiesta and finally seeing Kai Montinola. And not long after that, I’ll be spending my birthday week in Norway—my first time there.

Even writing those words still feels surreal.

Sometimes I think people underestimate how meaningful it is to have something exciting waiting for you after long periods of simply surviving. Adulthood can become so repetitive and heavy that we forget anticipation itself is a kind of happiness. Having trips to look forward to reminds me that life cannot only revolve around responsibilities, hospital corridors, paperwork, and exhaustion. There has to be room for wonder too.

And maybe that’s one of the biggest lessons this season is teaching me:

you are still allowed to romanticize your life even while working hard to sustain it.

As these next months approach, I feel this quiet desire to become more intentional again—not in the unrealistic “new me” kind of way, but in the softer, more honest sense. I want to return to myself slowly. To the version of me who notices things. The version who writes more, rests properly, laughs deeply, and doesn’t constantly feel guilty for slowing down.

So these are the quiet goals and reflections I’m carrying into June and July:

Personally, I want to stop waiting for the “perfect time” to enjoy life. I’ve spent so much of adulthood postponing rest until after the next shift, the next exam, the next responsibility, the next achievement. But life keeps reminding me that joy doesn’t always arrive after everything becomes perfect. Sometimes it exists right in the middle of unfinished chapters.

I want to read more again—not for productivity, but because books make me feel human. I want fewer nights spent endlessly scrolling and more moments where I sit quietly with thoughts that actually nourish me.

I also want to become more disciplined in gentle ways. To wake up earlier when I can. To drink more water. To stop surviving purely on caffeine and convenience-store meals during busy shifts. To take care of my body because it carries me through everything, even when I forget to thank it enough.

Emotionally, I want to protect my peace better this season. Less overexplaining myself. Less absorbing unnecessary negativity online. Less giving energy to people committed to misunderstanding me. I’ve learned that not every disagreement deserves your emotional participation. Sometimes maturity simply looks like choosing silence over chaos.

At the same time, I want to nurture the relationships that genuinely matter. To check on friends more intentionally. To spend more quality time with people who make life feel lighter. To continue growing alongside my fiancé not just through milestones, but through ordinary conversations, shared dreams, and mutual understanding.

For self-growth, I want to keep learning Norsk slowly before Norway—not because I need to become fluent overnight, but because I love the idea of learning little pieces of another culture before stepping into it. There’s something beautiful about trying, even imperfectly.

Career-wise, I know there’s still so much I want to achieve. My prescribing journey, my long-term goals as a Stroke CNS, my growth as both a professional and a person—they all still matter deeply to me. But this season is teaching me that ambition should not cost me my entire wellbeing. Success feels different now. It’s no longer just about titles or achievements. It’s about building a life I can actually enjoy living.

Financially, I want to continue becoming wiser too. More intentional spending. Less impulsive online shopping disguised as “self-care.” More saving for experiences, stability, and future plans that truly matter.

And maybe one of the biggest goals I have for myself this birthday season is this:

to become more present.

To stop rushing through beautiful moments while already worrying about the next one.

Because if the past few years taught me anything, it’s that life changes quietly. One day you’re crying over dreams that feel impossible, and years later you’re packing for countries you once only searched online at midnight after exhausting shifts.

Sometimes answered prayers arrive so gradually that you don’t even realize you’re living inside them already.

As July slowly approaches, I can already feel myself becoming reflective the way I always do around my birthday. Birthdays no longer feel like loud celebrations to me. They feel like checkpoints. Gentle reminders to pause and ask myself:

Am I becoming someone I’m proud of?
Am I living honestly?
Am I choosing kindness?
Am I still making room for wonder?

I think that’s why I love writing posts like this. They become tiny time capsules. Proof that even during uncertain seasons, there was still hope here. Still dreaming. Still softness. Still excitement for what’s ahead.

So here’s to Scotland.
To Norway.
To my first birthday there.
To airport mornings and unfamiliar streets.
To music and memories.
To growth that happens quietly.
To becoming softer instead of harder.
To choosing joy without guilt.
And to continuing forward, even when life feels overwhelming sometimes.

”PUHON”

Because sometimes growth looks like finally believing that your life can hold both exhaustion and beautiful moments at the same time—and still choosing to look forward to what’s ahead.

With excitement for the months ahead,
Anj 🤍