I’ve just closed the chapter on one of the most insane decades of my life and, although I have so many reasons to celebrate, I find myself both sad and in awe at what my life was versus what it is now. This past decade has felt like a cluster of lifetimes all wrapped into one. I cried, screamed, laughed, lost, gained, grew, learned. I completely lost sight of a me I could hardly touch and found a me I never dreamed existed. I took one last look at everything I knew and ran, full speed, into everything I did not. I think one of the most bittersweet and humbling realizations I've had is this is the first time I have ever felt truly alive. Like, at some point, I shut my eyes really tight and the tighter I squeezed them the further into the dark I could sink, hiding from the world, safe within the obscurity that enveloped me. Years blurred together and sped by and I never felt safe enough to do more than just squint one eye open, ever so slightly, occasionally capturing little pops of color lost in a whirlwind of grey. Always scared, always timid, always lost, always alone. There are so many moments now where I feel so much happiness, so much freedom, but still find myself gasping for air, drowning in my own self-inflicted fear, haunted by the remnants of what life wasn't, making it difficult for me to fully bask in what life is.
Growing up, when life got too scary, I would sit in the dark, close my eyes, and say to myself “It’s ok, this pain is temporary. This moment will just be a memory. You’ve got you. That’s all that matters” It was the only time I felt safe because it was the only moment I could control, that single moment of reassurance with myself. Letting things flow naturally and unfold slowly has never been a strong suit of mine. If something feels out of my control, my mind starts spinning and I get lost in myself. Life was always so full of disarray and uncertainty, there was never a single moment I ever felt I could gain any type of control - this would leave me feeling incredibly helpless. I had nothing to grab onto, nothing felt secure; It felt as though my hands constantly grasped at empty air. As I got older, I eventually realized there was not a single moment I trusted unless I could somehow manipulate it, in doing so I could figure out the outcome before it happened. I could create a figurative cushion to prepare for the next blow. If I could just get ahead of the pain, perhaps it would hurt a little bit less. I find myself in a panic at times, worried that if I do not carefully navigate every sliver of happiness I’ve finally captured, this little pocket of magic I've managed to create for myself will evaporate the minute my hands fully wrap around. Or maybe it’s the fear that, when I do finally get my hands around it, and my grip relaxes, everything will crumble around me, losing myself in the rubble again.
No one really talks about reaching the point where you feel totally healed and on top of the world, then suddenly these moments creep in and your entire perception of yourself caves and you feel completely lost all over again. Nobody talks about those periods where you feel like a total imposter. Where depression hits and you find yourself sobbing and laughing at the same time, like "What is wrong with me?! My life is great!" angry at yourself for seeming ungrateful, but so full of empty pain and forgetting how to cope... Sometimes, when we've been through trauma, we become too afraid to move on from it. Who are we without those memories? If we stop reliving them, will we forget who we are and where we came from? As happy as I am with where my life is, Fuck if growth isn't one of the most painful things that exists. Fuck, if leaving our old lives and pain behind isn't completely heartbreaking. Closing the door while our old selves look up at us with desperation and sadness. Having to explain to our inner child that it is time to let go and move on, we cannot relive the moments we lost. We cannot create the memories that were robbed of us. The sacrifices we must make to become our most authentic selves, to meet and know our own hearts, and to thrive can be the most heart-wrenching, kick-in-the-stomach, sacrifices there are.
As I start on this next chapter of my life, I really cannot begin to express the gratitude I have for the life I have lived. I have spent the last couple of years reflecting and realizing that I’d adopted this perception that growing up meant things get easier, love is simpler, and people are better. In all of my 29 years of existence, my perception of what life was supposed to be created unrealistic expectations that made it impossible for genuine happiness to ever peak through. Although there are moments I would like to never live again, there is still not a single thing I would go back and change. I know every single setback and painful lesson was placed there to mold me into who I am today and I truly love who I am today. I now understand that growing up means creating a simpler love for ourselves, being the better person, doing hard things because easy things are never what they seem. I've learned that we don't find freedom, we make freedom. And that giving pieces of ourselves should be done with zero expectation of seeing that piece again. I’ve learned that growth is incredibly painful. There is power in loving with intention, not expectation. Understanding we are not for everyone and everyone is not for us. People come and go and, although painful, it is all part of life's necessary cycle. We cannot wait for magic, we must create our own. Learning to love oneself is one the hardest things we will ever have to learn to do, but taking steps to do so is beyond worth every uncertainty that may come along the way. I have learned there should never be shame in sharing our story, regardless of opinions. People will always have opinions. Find your voice and use it loudly and proudly. Hold your head high, no one but you knows your inner fears and insecurities. Speak your mind, live your truth, find your passion, face your fears, and sprinkle everything you do with courage.
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