Today I am bidding adieu to my twenties and stepping into the new and unfamiliar territory of my thirties. When I was younger, I thought that I would be approaching this date with bated breath, sorrowful to leave the youth of my twenties behind. However, as life would have it, I am feeling almost the complete opposite of that. I have longed for my thirties for a couple of years now, praying that they would bring drastic change to my life. Because if I’m being candid, the last three years in my twenties broke me. I met a darkness and heartache I had never known before, and I spent many days trying to claw my way out of that place, begging for relief and a hope that I felt could not be found in my twenties. While year 29 has been good to me, and has brought much healing, I am anticipating more growth and maturing in year 30.
So, in honor of turning 30, here’s a little personal musing I’ve done in regards to living life to the fullest, here and now, and also embracing feeling. Learning to feel not only the good and the joyful, but the bad and the sorrowful.
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Years ago, I remember someone came into work talking about celebrating their 30th birthday. They were bragging about getting drunk at a party, not remembering a thing and feeling absolutely smashed and hungover the next day. Laughing, they said “I mean, did you even turn 30 if you didn’t get black out drunk?!”.
I was 23 at the time and I remember thinking to myself “What is the point of drinking to the point that you pass out, don’t remember anything, and then wake up feeling horrible the next day? Why is this how so many people choose to celebrate big milestones in their life?”. Hearing that line, “did you even turn 30 if you didn’t get black out drunk?!”, has always stuck with me, and still makes me stop and ponder how people choose to celebrate special occasions. It has also lead me to question how people choose to cope with difficult times in their life.
I have never been one to drink and I have never cared to hang out around people that choose to get drunk for the fun of it.
But I know not everyone gets drunk for fun. Some people turn to alcohol to numb the pain they may feel in their life. I am at a place where I can empathize with people in that kind of situation, even though I may not agree with it.
Still, other people may drink because they are anxious and they want to loosen up a bit so they can be “themselves”.
The past few years have been hard, to put it lightly. There have been plenty of times that I longed for the ability to numb myself to all feeling. I wanted to stop the intrusive thoughts from interrupting my daily life. I wanted to stop the heartache that made me weak. I wanted to stop the anger that coursed through my veins and made my skin hot. I wanted to stop the grief that comes in waves and brings me to my knees.
I’ve been through a lot, and I won’t go into detail here, but I reached a point where I felt sheer exhaustion from feeling everything. I felt like a victim — “Why Me?” I used to ask myself. Occasionally, I still ask this.
I spent a significant amount of time wallowing in that victimhood. I felt that life was passing me by, while everyone else continued on, living their lives. And I was stuck. Stuck in the hurt, stuck in the grief, stuck in the trauma, stuck in the rage, stuck in the suffering, stuck in the confusion.
Probably the worst of it all was not feeling safe in my own mind and my own body. I wanted out so badly. I didn’t think there was any hope or any help to be found. I experienced waves of emotions — one day the sorrow would break me and I would weep until the sobs racked my body. The next day I would feel hot rage like I never had before and I would want to smash something. I was at a loss, because I didn’t ask for any of this, I didn’t sign up for it. I had actually fought hard against it.
Then, sprinkled amongst the bad, was joy. There was a point that I reached that when joy did come, it felt so unfamiliar to me that I didn’t think it was real. It felt like I couldn’t have it anymore.
This was a hard, dark place to be.
Fast forward a few months. After many counseling sessions, a lot of prayer, support from friends and family, a lot of self-work and unlearning, and faith, my perspective changed. My mindset shifted. And for the first time in my entire life, I saw pain and suffering in a new light.
What if instead of fighting the uncomfortable feelings of anxiety, the gut wrenching blows of grief, or the shear heartache that comes from walking through my worst fears, what if I welcomed them? What would happen then?
I started putting this into practice, welcoming the negative feelings. I got curious about them and started to pay attention to where I felt them in my body. A lump in my throat. A racing heart. Shaky hands. When I felt an anxiety attack coming on, I noticed what triggered me, I took time to process what was going on, and ask myself why I felt scared and unsafe.
It took some time, but I got to a place where I wasn’t pushing those feelings away anymore. I wasn’t wishing I could numb them away, or hope that I wouldn’t feel them anymore. I learned that life is cyclical, emotions come in waves, and it all ebbs and flows.
I completely shifted my mindset to start looking at these feelings as a gift and, in the grand scheme of things, something to be grateful for. Would I choose to walk down this path I’ve been on? No. Do I wish that the course of my life could have played out differently? Yes. But the wisdom, healing and growth I have gleaned from the trials I have faced have helped me grow as a person.
I finally came to the realization that to feel is to be human. To feel so intensely, both joy and sorrow, means that I have loved deeply. Sometimes to feel seems like a blessing, sometimes a curse. But they can coexist together. The light and the dark, the good and the bad, the beauty and the sadness. You can be sad and happy at the same time. You can be sad and strong too.
A prime example of this in my own personal life was when I gave birth to my second son, just 12 days after my Maw passed away. It was such a strange place to be, surrounded by both life and death. An over abundance of joy welcoming this precious new life into my arms, while also grieving as another soul slipped out of my grasp. I loved my son and was so happy to have him earth side. I loved my Maw and was deeply saddened that left us to go on to heaven.
I held them both close: life and death, light and dark, good and bad.
As I turn 30 today, I want to continue to simply feel as deeply and fully as this life allows. For myself and for those who have flown on to heaven. Another year of life, to call that a gift is an understatement. Here’s to 30.