Scarred, Softened, and Still Here

By Kathy Marie Austin

Today is my birthday.

But I’m not here for balloons or cake or well wishes.
I’m here to honor the miles I’ve walked—the quiet ones, the broken ones, the victorious ones.
Birthdays have become less about getting older and more about getting clearer. Clearer about who I am, what matters, and how many lifetimes I’ve already lived within this one.

If I could give this day a name, it would be something like: The Day I Gave Myself Permission to Tell the Truth About My Life.

Because the truth is… it hasn’t been easy.
There have been seasons when I didn’t know how I would make it through—when loss hollowed me out, when disappointment clung like a second skin, when grief knocked the wind out of my spirit repeatedly.

But there was always something deeper carrying me. A quiet strength. A whisper from somewhere beyond. A thread of light I couldn’t always see but somehow knew it was there.

I’ve known sadness so intimate it felt like a second heartbeat. But I’ve also known love so pure it rewired something in me. I’ve been cracked open by sorrow—and stitched back together by moments of unexpected grace.

I’ve learned that joy doesn’t always roar—it often arrives soft, in the stillness, in the way the light filters through the trees, in the way someone says, “I see you.”

There were times I lost faith. In people. In the world. Even in myself.
But something always called me back. Spirit. Angels. The soul of the earth. The memory of who I truly am.

I have walked through fire.
I have buried versions of myself I once believed were permanent.
I have risen—sometimes quietly, sometimes defiantly—but always with purpose.

So no, I don’t share this because it’s my birthday.
I share this because I know I’m not the only one who’s had to learn how to keep loving in a world that can be unkind.

I share this for the ones who’ve been walking their path with courage, even when no one saw them.
For the ones who keep showing up for life, even when it doesn’t look like they thought it would.

My birthday isn’t just a celebration of being born.
It’s a celebration of the sacred return to my truth.
Of staying.
Of learning to find beauty in the unraveling.

And if you’re reading this, maybe it’s also an invitation:
To honor your own story.
Not just the polished parts.
But the truth of who you are.
The light you carry.
The way you keep going.

Because that’s the miracle.
Not that we survive…
But that we keep loving, keep softening, keep rising—anyway.

I no longer apologize for the woman I’ve become—
the one who listens to her wild, speaks from her soul,
and walks with both scars and grace.

— Kathy Marie Austin

✨ If something in these words touched your spirit, I welcome you to explore more at kathymarieaustin.com —a space devoted to astrology, intuition, and the beauty of becoming.