Birthdays do this funny thing to me.
They make me look back and forward all at once.
This year, I’m turning 49.
Next Wednesday it happens.
One year from 50. One heartbeat away from half a century on this earth.
And it hits different.
Because I don’t measure my life in years the way I used to. I measure it in stories. In children’s laughter. In the long nights I thought might break me but didn’t. In the mornings when the coffee was strong and the prayers even stronger.
I measure it in the people who sat with me when everything fell apart. In the people who left when it got too heavy. In the man who walks with me now, steady, present, true.
And in the words. Always in the words.
I’ve spent my life writing. Most of it quietly. Pages that no one will ever see. Journals stacked in boxes. Notes that got thrown away. Prayers whispered into night skies.
But this last year, I finally put the words into the world.
Not one book.
Not two.
Three.
Three books, each one carrying a different piece of me.
“Sober Sex” is my rawest book. It’s about trauma, intimacy, and the way we use alcohol or weed or any kind of escape to blur the edges of ourselves so we don’t have to face the truth of what we feel. It’s not a book about never drinking again. It’s about asking why. Why we drink before sex. Why we numb before intimacy. Why we say yes when our body is screaming no.
“Empowered but Empty” is the book that came out of years of watching what the modern feminist movement has done to women, men, and families. It’s not about politics. It’s about people. About what happens when we lose polarity, when we confuse independence with disconnection, when we trade power for presence.
And then there’s “The Voice That Made You” — my heart poured out in poems. One hundred of them, each one born out of moments of prayer, meditation, and dialogue with the Creator. These are the words I never thought I’d share, because they felt too sacred, too intimate. And yet here they are, in your hands, in your homes, maybe even in your hearts.
So yes, this birthday feels different.
Not because of the number.
But because of the becoming.
Because I can look back on the last 49 years and see the wreckage and the resurrection. I can see the places I thought I would never crawl out of. The nights I thought God had gone silent. The mornings I wondered if I had anything left to give.
And then I see the books.
The stories.
The truth that made its way onto paper, one word at a time.
That’s what I want to celebrate this year.
Not just me.
Not just another trip around the sun.
But the words.
The work.
The way God takes ashes and turns them into something worth passing on.
So, here’s my gift back to you:
From August 23–29, all three of my books are just $2.99 each on Kindle. (HERE)
It’s my little birthday special. A way to say thank you for walking with me, reading with me, and reminding me that words still matter in a world that moves too fast.
And if you’ve already read one, can I ask you for a gift in return? Leave a review. Your words carry power too, more than you realize.
Here’s to 49 years.
Here’s to stories that heal.
Here’s to books that don’t just sit on shelves, but live in the marrow of who we are.
With gratitude and love,
—
This post was previously published on medium.com.
Love relationships? We promise to have a good one with your inbox.
Subcribe to get 3x weekly dating and relationship advice.
Did you know? We have 8 publications on Medium. Join us there!
***
–
Photo credit: Rene’ Schooler(Author)
