The Road to 40

“My 35th birthday will be the last one in Vegas. I want to celebrate my 40th in Istanbul with you all, so I want to give you enough time to plan.”

This became the plan sometime in 2019.

April 1, 2020 was my 35th birthday. It was going to be the biggest group of girlfriends who would come with me to Vegas to celebrate.

Needless to say, that didn’t happen.

Over the next couple of years, there was still hope and planning for my 40th birthday, especially as I began my trips back and forth to Istanbul.

But life doesn’t always go the way you plan (duh). 

“I don’t think I’m going to come back after my birthday in Istanbul.” 

I can’t remember exactly when I told my friends this, but it was a decision that kind of came out of nowhere for me. What I really wanted to do was keep doing the 6 months in Istanbul and 6 months in Seattle. As time went on and I spent more time in Istanbul, I felt the pull even stronger. 

It was not just one thing that cemented this decision. It was a whirlwind of the pandemic, reconnecting with my childhood girlfriends and my cousins, the realization that I’d be celebrating both my birthday and Eid in Istanbul for the first time in 30 years, my dad finally retiring and moving back home. 

A perfect storm of loneliness, coming to terms with the next chapter of my life (the big 4-0) and needing that reconnection with my home. 

In every conversation I have with friends in the U.S. and people I met in Istanbul, I’ve been trying to explain the longing that comes with being an immigrant for 3/4ths of my life. How, even with all the political and economic turmoil of the world, I’d rather be going through that in my home because I wouldn’t have the additional cultural difference to manage. 

I loved my life in Seattle because it’s a life I chose.

I loved my little apartment in Ballard, with the huge backyard that became a lifesaver during the height of the pandemic. I loved coming home to see my Farrah at her window, watching the street, recognizing me when I walked up the sidewalk, running to greet me at the door. I loved being close to my best friends. I loved the purple wall. I loved the very cheap rent and my awesome landlord. I spent 11 out of my 12 years in Seattle in Ballard, and by the time I walked out of the empty apartment on March 27, 2025, I’d spent a little over 5 years in that apartment (which was the longest I’ve ever stayed in one place as an adult).

I did a lot of healing over 12 years because I found those friends who became my chosen family, who held me up even through some of the worst times of my adult life. If it wasn’t for them, I probably wouldn’t have bothered with the 6 months on and off for the past few years. Of course, there’s also my best friend’s son, who is, for all intents and purposes, my nephew. 

But over the past 18 months, even spending time with him wasn’t enough. Going back to Seattle stopped feeling like going back home.

Did the current political climate accelerate my decision to give up my Ballard apartment? I mean, yes.

But I was always heading for this moment, to be back home for the first time in 30 years on my birthday.

It’s a new chapter. 

A new chapter I get to celebrate with my best friend Michelle of 11+ years from Seattle who’ll get to meet my childhood best friends of 30+ years, because she’s actually flying out to visit me next week. The boys were also supposed to come out, but my favorite little man has become a rockstar in multiple sports and the schedule just didn’t work out.

Yes, Michelle is the only one out of the group who’s actually coming out because life happens. And over the years, with everything we’ve been through, the weight of my 40th birthday was no longer something I held on to. Especially since I’m now living in Istanbul, so there’s plenty of time for my favorite people to visit when they can, because it’ll be a celebration every time.

What are my annual reflections for my birthday?

Honestly, I’m taking it day by day. I’m working on my Etsy shop. I’m writing more (and will revive my newsletter in its new home this week). I’ve got friends on two continents who love me and support my decision to take this big leap.

I’m still processing the big decision to move back home, condensing my entire life into 7 suitcases (but that’s a story for another day). There is turmoil in both of my homes, and turning 40 no longer feels like a milestone.

Turning 39 honestly felt a little more momentous than 40.

Maybe it’s the pandemic. Maybe it’s living with bipolar 2 and ADHD. 

Maybe it’s just that I’m finally where I belong.