There was a time I didn’t think I’d make it to 40. Chronic illness had me convinced that life would never move forward—that I’d always be stuck in a cycle of pain, inflammation, and exhaustion. I thought HS would take everything from me. But here I am. Forty. And it feels like such a privilege. Aside from a pesky frozen shoulder (hi, aging!), I feel strong. I feel grateful. And I feel more myself than ever before. Sure, I was a little nervous—wondering if hormonal shifts would send my skin spiraling or if some new mystery illness would creep in. You hear the stories. But instead, what’s shown up is… a very normal rite of passage for a woman in her 40s. And somehow, I welcome it. We live in a world where 20-year-olds get preventative Botox and 13-year-olds are buying anti-aging serums at Sephora. But I didn’t grow up like that. I grew up rubbing baby oil on my skin and baking in the sun, not worrying about fine lines or collagen loss. Now, I see every line, every ache, and every moment of mobility, energy, and ease as a gift. Aging isn’t something I want to fight—it's something I get to do. And that, in itself, is beautiful. 💫