G=Goals O=Outlook A=Authentic T=Truth (#coateisaGOAT)
As I sit here on the night before my 50th birthday, my mood isn’t my usual one. I’ve been a little down. Maybe a little sad. And I didn’t expect that.
Why is it that birthdays—especially the big ones—have a way of making us think about where things have gone wrong instead of where they’ve gone right? Why do they invite us to replay the moments we didn’t become who we thought we would be, instead of honoring the fact that we’re still here?
Tonight, I’m realizing that I have more years behind me than I have in front of me. That thought feels heavy when I say it out loud. Not because life is over—I’m not dead yet. There are still so many things I want to do. So many things I want to accomplish. So much life I still want to live. But this milestone makes you stop. It makes you take inventory in a way that feels both honest and uncomfortable.
Today was good. Really good. I made my favorite meal. Richie surprised me with flowers and a delicious cake. I spent most of the afternoon with my children. When I list those things out, it’s obvious—I am blessed. I know that. I believe that. I am deeply thankful for where I am in my life.
And yet… the down still shows up.
Why does the heavy sometimes try to overshadow the highlights? Why does the light feel quieter than the ache? Why does gratitude sometimes have to fight so hard to stay in the lead?
I know things could be so much worse. I know I’ve been given more than I deserve. And still, tonight feels like a mix of gratitude and grief—grief for time, for old versions of myself, for dreams that changed shape, and for chapters that had to end even when I wasn’t ready.
I don’t think that makes me ungrateful. I think it makes me human.
Faith doesn’t mean we don’t feel these moments. It means we trust God in the middle of them. It means we believe He’s still writing our story, even when we pause to reread the earlier chapters and wonder how we got here so fast.
So tonight, I’m pushing through—not forcing joy, not pretending everything is perfect, but choosing to sit with the truth gently. Holding both things at once: thankfulness and tenderness, blessing and ache, hope and reflection.
Here’s to tomorrow. Here’s to turning 50. Here’s to continuing to grow, to learn, to dream, and to show up—even when the emotions are mixed.
Happy birthday to me.
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