1995 was a year of firsts. I started preschool—a huge step for a little me who had only known the comfort of being home with my mom. I had never even been in daycare. That year, I also started riding my very first bike: a bright red tricycle. Each pedal forward felt like a tiny declaration of independence, a glimpse of the bigger world waiting for me.

I remember looking at my older sister and wanting her milestones, I wished mine could be “bigger”—a bigger bike, a higher grade level, something more impressive. But those weren’t my milestones; they were hers.

Fast forward thirty years to 2025—a year that mirrors that same sense of “firsts,” but in a much grander sense. I became a published author, stepping fully into my voice and story. I gained freedom, healing, and transformation—achievements that weren’t flashy or traditional, not a college degree or a milestone most people would notice. But they were mine. And noble.

The lesson is clear: don’t compare your milestones to anyone else’s. What matters is that they are yours, that they mark your growth, your courage, your journey. Looking back, I see a beautiful symmetry: the little preschool girl on her red tricycle and the empowered woman holding her book are connected by the same spirit of curiosity, resilience, and quiet bravery. Life’s milestones don’t have to be loud to be life-changing—they just have to be real.

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