What Walking Through the Gates on My 21st Birthday Taught Me
What do you do for your 21st birthday when you have no friends?
Let me clarify. I had friends. I just had the kind of friends who could never be in the same room without me managing the situation. I was the group mom. The peacekeeper. The one who made sure everyone else had a good time and take of them when drinking to much.
And for once, just once, I wanted to be the one who was taken care of.
So I asked myself: how do you throw yourself a birthday that actually feels like a celebration?
The answer came from the universe, practically shouting at me: retreats.
I’d never been on one. Didn’t know what they were or how many existed. But I went down a rabbit hole: themes, locations, lengths, countries. And sitting near the top of my search was a women’s Wine & Unwind Retreat. Forty-six acres of open Texas land. Free-roaming horses. And the cherry on top? It landed right on my birthday weekend.
Wine (i love). Yoga (eh i’ll grow to enjoy). Horses (inner child was screaming). The universe wasn’t whispering. It was shouting!!
There was one small problem: the retreat was 21 and up, and I wasn’t quite 21 when I bought my ticket. So I did what any resourceful almost-21-year-old would do. I listed my age as 21, which, technically… would be true by day two. Close enough.
I booked the retreat. I booked the flight. And I went alone. No friends. No family. Not even my momma. Just me, myself, and I, which I’ve come to believe is the holy trinity of figuring your life out.
Through the gates
At the time, I was searching. What’s my purpose? What makes me feel alive and worth getting up for every day? I’d never really connected with people my own age. I’m an old soul with a big inner child, just a girl trying to figure herself out in this big world.
Then I pulled up to the gates that said Retreat Ranch, and the weight of the world fell off my shoulders. Excitement. Joy. A feeling of what’s on the other side of this?
What was on the other side was a job offer.
The owner and I connected instantly. All weekend she kept saying, “Girl, I wish you lived in Texas.” By the third time, it hit me: girl, what are you trying to say right now? Then she said it: “I don’t have a job title yet, but I’d love to hire you.”
My eyes lit up. My heart said yes. And I said, “Let’s talk business.”
For the next five months, I flew back and forth from Chicago to Texas for every monthly retreat, dipping my toes in before diving in headfirst. Eventually, my wallet and my heart agreed: it was time. I packed up and moved to Austin, knowing no one. (Bonus: no brutal winters.)
Moving wasn’t easy. New places, new people, new social scenes, all of it way outside my comfort zone. But three years later, I’m still here. I’ve grown in my role, and I’ve built a life I actually chose, not one I defaulted into.
All because a 20-year-old girl didn’t want to spend her birthday taking care of drunk friends.
What it taught me
Bet on yourself. You never know what door or window might open if you never take the chance. It’s okay to leave your normal, your friends, even your family, and land somewhere you don’t know a single soul. Things will be okay. (And if they’re not, you can always pack up and go. Just give a new place more than a year first.)
It may be scary. But it’s better to say you did it scared than to never know what could have happened.
A seed for you
This month, I want you to plant one seed of courage.
1. Pick one thing outside your comfort zone and put it on your calendar. It doesn’t have to be a solo flight to Texas. It could be a class you’ve been eyeing, a solo dinner, a new trail, or saying yes to an invite you’d normally skip.
2. Journal before you go:
What am I nervous about?
What’s the best thing that could happen?
3. Journal after:
How did it actually feel?
What surprised me?
What grew?
4. Then come tell me about it! I mean it. Send a note to my flower box, slide into my DMs on Instagram, or tag me in your adventure. I want to cheer you on, and your story might be the seed someone else needs.
Lots of love,
Lily
