Today I turn 56.

And if you had told me even five years ago what my life would look like today, I probably wouldn’t have believed you.

I live in Florida. I’m a published author. My marriage of 37 years looks nothing like the conventional marriage I was taught it had to be. I’ve shared my life on national television. I’m writing my second book. And perhaps most importantly, I’m living a life that I actually get to choose.

Not the life my religion prescribed for me. Not the life other people expected of me. Not the life that would make everyone else comfortable.

MY life.

And let me tell you, getting here has been one hell of a journey.

What a Difference a Year Makes

This past year has been filled with firsts, changes, unexpected opportunities, and some pretty incredible moments.

I published When Faith Couldn’t Hold, a book that tells a story I once believed I would never be allowed to tell.

Trent and I packed up our lives in California and moved across the country to Florida, embracing an entirely new chapter of adventure, friendships, and possibilities.

We shared our unconventional relationship with the world on This Is Poly, knowing full well that some people would celebrate our honesty and others would condemn it.

And guess what?

The world didn’t end because I stopped living according to someone else’s rules.

In fact, my world got bigger.

I’ve discovered that there is an incredible amount of life waiting on the other side of fear.

The Freedom to Be Me

For most of my life, I believed there was a right way to think, a right way to believe, a right way to love, and a right way to live.

And I exhausted myself trying to get it right.

I questioned things I wasn’t supposed to question. I struggled with beliefs that didn’t make sense to me. I carried guilt and shame that never should have belonged to me.

But somewhere along the way, I started asking a different question.

What if I actually get to decide?

What if my morality doesn’t have to come from fear?

What if love doesn’t have to fit inside someone else’s definition?

What if I can change my mind, set boundaries, make mistakes, experience pleasure, and still be a good person?

What if I don’t have to spend the rest of my life apologizing for being me?

At 56, I’m no longer interested in asking permission to exist.

I’m interested in LIVING.

And No, I Don’t Have It All Figured Out

Here’s the funny thing about birthdays.

We often feel like we’re supposed to look back, celebrate our accomplishments, and confidently announce what comes next.

But today, I’m feeling emotional.

Not because I’m unhappy with my life. Quite the opposite. There’s so much to celebrate.

But freedom doesn’t magically erase grief. Healing doesn’t happen in a straight line. And building a life you love doesn’t mean every day feels wonderful.

I still have questions. I still have difficult days. I still encounter parts of myself that I’m learning to understand.

I’ve come to realize that growth isn’t becoming someone who never struggles.

It’s becoming someone who no longer has to hide the struggle.

And that, too, is freedom.

Here’s to 56!

I don’t know exactly what this next year will bring.

There will undoubtedly be more adventures, more unexpected turns, more laughter, more love, and probably a few more people who are absolutely horrified by my choices.

And I’m okay with that.

Because I’ve already spent enough of my life trying to make other people comfortable.

At 56, I want more experiences that make me feel alive. More meaningful conversations. More opportunities to challenge what we’ve been taught. More authenticity. More laughter. More pleasure. More love.

And less fear, less shame, less pretending, and a whole lot less worrying about what everyone else thinks.

I’ve lost people I desperately wish were still here. I’ve watched parts of my life fall apart. I’ve questioned almost everything I once believed.

And I’ve discovered something extraordinary.

There is still so much life left to live.

So here’s to 56 years of living, learning, loving, questioning, grieving, growing, and becoming.

Here’s to the little girl who dared to ask questions.

Here’s to the woman who finally decided she was allowed to answer them for herself.

And here’s to whatever comes next.

I’m not finished. I’m not slowing down. And I’m certainly not going backward.

I’m 56.

And I’m just getting started! 🥂

— Kami