21 Things I’ve Learned, Loved, and Let Go in Life & Summer

Jun 21

5 min read

As someone born on June 21st—the cusp of seasons and change—it feels only right to reflect on the many cycles of growth, loss, and love I’ve experienced. Life, like summer, is full of light, heat, storms, and calm waters.

In celebration of my birthday, I’m sharing 21 things I’ve learned, loved, and let go—a personal inventory of becoming.

What I’ve Learned

Every “no” or failure is a lesson. Rejection is often redirection in disguise.
From a young age, I always knew there was no backup plan. I had to pass my classes in high school and college because I didn’t have the luxury of moving back home to figure things out. When I chose to go to college out of state and move to Arizona, most people expected me to fail. But what they didn’t see was the quiet fire already burning in me. I’m stronger than I ever knew. Fast forward to adulting in my 30s and 40s...surviving both domestic violence and breast cancer taught me what true resilience feels like—not just as a buzzword, but as a lived experience. The kind that builds in the dark, when no one’s cheering you on, and everything in you wants to quit… but doesn’t. Every challenge—academic, emotional, physical—became another layer of strength I didn’t know I had until I had to use it.
Blood is blood, but family is chosen. Loyalty, love, and presence matter more than DNA.
When people show you who they are, believe them the first time. Maya Angelou never missed.
It’s okay not to know what you want to do. I had no idea what career—or even what kind of life—I wanted in high school. All I knew was that there had to be something more beyond the small town I grew up in, in a state that called itself “The Good Life,” but never quite felt like it was mine. I longed for a place where people who looked like me didn’t have to smile through comments that began with “no offense,” followed by slurs like spic or wetback. I craved conversations outside the red party lines, spaces where curiosity and culture weren’t seen as threats. I didn’t have it all figured out, but I knew this: There is always another way. The path might not be straight, or easy, or even visible at first—but with courage and help, I always found my way. One bold step at a time. Through confusion, through pain, through every detour. You don’t need to have it all mapped out to move forward. You just need to trust that something better is possible—and that you’re worth finding it.
Manifestation is real. I didn’t settle, and I found my husband—my dream partner—because I believed in both myself and the love I deserved.
You don’t need to explain your boundaries. No is a complete sentence.
Healing isn’t linear. Some wounds revisit, but each time, I meet them with deeper wisdom.
Asking for help isn’t weakness—it’s wisdom.
Self-love isn’t a destination—it’s a daily practice.

What I’ve Loved

Learning. From my bachelor’s to my master’s degree to my yoga mat—I’m always evolving.
Guiding teens. Helping them navigate life, school, and dreams has been an honor.
My homes. Arizona’s sunshine and Tacoma’s mist have both shaped me.
Charlotte, my soul cat. She walked with me through hell and back. Her spirit lives in every sunrise.
Being a doodle mom. Fur, joy, chaos, and cuddles.
Marriage to my best friend. He’s my manifestation, my partner in crime, and my peace.
My in-laws. Proof that love can surprise you with open arms and real acceptance.
Music, concerts, and festivals—joy lives in the rhythm. I’ve always loved singing, dancing, and being part of the magic that happens at live shows. It’s not just entertainment; it’s how I feel most alive, connected, and in tune with the world around me. In fact, it’s one of the ways my husband and I first connected during the early, long-distance days of our relationship. I knew I was a goner the moment he emailed me a video of himself playing acoustic guitar and singing Radiohead—heart officially melted. Our first concert together was Vance Joy at the McMenamins Edgefield in Oregon, and since then, our playlists (and our hearts) have only grown more eclectic. We’ve introduced each other to new artists, new sounds, and new ways of feeling deeply. And during the pandemic, when the world went quiet, we made music together—just for fun, just for us. It’s one of the ways we continue to choose joy, connection, and creativity in our everyday life.
Coaching my clients. Watching them grow is magic.
My body, my humor, my empathy. Especially empathy—it’s my superpower.
The little things. Vodka and bourbon over deep conversations. Kayaking on quiet waters. Cracking open Dungeness crab with buttery fingers. Chelsea Farms oysters on a sunny patio. Cheering for the Suns like I'm courtside and riding the highs and heartbreaks of being a lifelong Seahawks fan. The laughter of old friends who knew you way back when and the surprising comfort of new ones who feel like home right away. This is the rich texture of life—the in-between moments that don’t make headlines but make everything mean something. These are the anchors that have kept me grounded through change, through growth, and through seasons of both grief and celebration. Joy isn't always loud or life-changing. Sometimes, it's the clink of a glass, the rhythm of a paddle in the water, or a perfectly timed playlist on a summer night. I’ve learned that this—these small, soul-filling delights—is the good life.

What I’ve Let Go

Resentment toward my father. He didn’t believe in me—but I do. And that’s enough.
Toxic family patterns. Just because we share blood doesn’t mean I owe them my peace.
Seasonal friendships. Not everyone is meant to stay forever. And that’s okay.
Grief. Charlotte’s passing shattered me. But love like hers never really leaves—it just changes form.
“I’ll do it when…” thinking. What if “when” never comes? I choose now. I take the trip. I live for today.
The need for approval. I no longer chase validation. I’m good with me—and that’s freedom.
Silence. My voice matters. I will speak up, speak out, and speak truth—even if it shakes the room.

To Close: A Summer Soul in Bloom

June 21 is the longest day of light in the year, and I’ve decided to embrace that light by standing fully in mine. Life hasn’t been easy, but it’s been real, raw, and beautifully mine.

To everyone reading: May you find the courage to learn your lessons, love out loud, and let go of what no longer serves your soul.

You don’t need to wait for a birthday to start again. But if you do—this is your sign.

Here’s to 21 things and a lifetime of many more. 🌞

First Love Yourself (FLY)

~ Gabriela