A Quiet Exhale: A Letter to my 46th year
- Tammy Humpal
- 2 hours ago
- 2 min read
By Susie Bentley

Tomorrow is my birthday.Â
My birthday has always felt like a bit of an afterthought—a quiet exhale after a long holiday scream. Growing up, I used to ache for a summer birthday, imagining pool parties and amusement parks under a loud, hot sun. But as I get older, I’ve started to appreciate the winter of it all. Each year is less about the party and more about a measurement of time. It is a marking of how I have become more; better, seasoned, or perhaps just older and more tired in a way that feels honest.
I found this same clarity recently in a tremendous novel, The Correspondent by Virginia Evans. I watched the passing of time through the pen of its 73 year old main character, Sybil Van Antwerp, whose life is revealed through a series of letters to friends, famous authors, her daughter, and even a customer service rep. It was fascinating to see how a life can be pieced together through the written word and how a single sentence can carry the weight of decades.
There is a moment where a simple letter from a neighbor revives something in Sybil. It reminded me that showing up for people matters, but showing up for ourselves is the real work of aging; she owed that to herself most of all. So, in the spirit of birthdays, aging, and the quiet letters that change us, here is my letter to myself for this new year..
Dearest Susie,
Tomorrow you will turn another year older. It is such a blessing to age, isn’t it? My wish for you this year is to learn, grow, and listen. When you are unsure of yourself, breathe and let yourself be. Trust your instincts.Â
Stop auditioning for people who don't have a seat for you. If someone or something makes you feel small, let it go without apology. You have spent a lifetime learning how to love; this year, turn that same fierce devotion inward.
Love yourself like you have never done before. Take care of your heart; be gentle on yourself. This life you lead is wonderful in so many ways, but it is hard. Slow down enough to feel what is aligned.
This year will no doubt help you to continue to see the world in new and wonderful ways. If you find yourself in the mud, remember that even in the coldest ground, things are preparing to bloom. Many beautiful things grow in the darkest of circumstances.
With so much love,
Susie
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