Starting Over…

I write this entry with an elated heart and mind. You see, a week ago I turned 30; I entered a new decade in my life that promises so much more for me and of me. Five years ago, I started a tradition of sort (perhaps I will pass it down to my child/ren one day). It entails doing a countdown to my birthday but with a twist, I start counting down from the number of days equivalent to how old I’ll be turning that year and then each day is dedicated to something (positive or negative) that I have either learned, willing to let go of or grateful for from the previous year. I hope I am making sense with my explanation 🙈
So, as a result of this tradition of mine, I genuinely look forward to the days leading up to my birthdays because I get to unpack myself to myself (if that makes sense). I get to introspect, atone with my soul, change/let go of those parts I dislike about myself or have no use of anymore and then I prepare for whatever it is that the new year will bring my way. Depending on the lessons that I get from my purging, I then create a theme that I tend to focus my energies on for that year.

This year I had 30 days of rummaging through a decade of experiences, mistakes and lessons. I went back to when I entered my 20s; a broken girl with trauma weighing heavy on her shoulders. I remembered how even though I was in so much pain with a constant need to end my life, I was the life of the party. That was the irony of my life for most of my twenties, I was a broken girl who gave life to everyone around her. I poured from an empty cup, I have no idea how but I did.

My late twenties however were all about healing, putting back some of the pieces of who I was and who I was trying to become. I thought about the possibilities of my future again (after a very long time), I toyed around with the idea of having a family of my own but never committing to anything that needed me to be vulnerable. I was strong; I had to be strong and I draped myself in pseudo strength most times even when all I yearned for was to crack open and lay my brokenness at my feet for everyone to witness.
Somehow, I had figured out how to pack my troubles far away and I became a sanctuary for everyone around me, even when I was drowning. That is how I coped with my mental breakdowns; I anchored myself in the lives of the people I loved. I gave pieces of myself in whichever way I could. I’m also inclined to believe that what was my strength was also my weakness; I was trying to save everyone else but the person who needed it the most – me.

The past year has been a whirlwind of emotions; I have cried more in the past year than I had in the past decade. I remember how I cried for hours after realising that I was pregnant. I cried for myself more than anything, I felt as if the universe was patting me on the back and had finally accepted my worthiness and gifted me true love in human form as a reward for persevering through all the odds that were stacked against me. Even though deep down I feared making a mess of being someone’s mother, I vowed that I would do everything in my power to be the best that I can be for the both of us.

More than a year later, I am able to look back and see what an incredible person I am, what a phenomenal mother I have been to my baby and the kind of partner and friend I have grown to be. I am reminded of a poem by John Paul Moore Drinking From The Saucer and I am in awe of just how much my cup has overflowed and how much it keeps on filling up so that I may continue to pour myself when I am needed.
I have entered a new decade with so much awareness, intention and determination in every aspect of my life and I am grateful to that young girl who never gave up, no matter how many punches life threw at her. The girl I was and the woman I am now have finally sat down to become acquainted.

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