Thoughts On My Thirties

writing

Uh…yeah, so where do I begin? The truth is, it’s hard enough to remember what I ate for dinner yesterday, much less sum up an entire decade in a sitting, sans alcohol. There is something about the presence of alcohol and the ease of drudging up old shit that go cup in hand. And today–for now, I’m on coffee. What I can tell you is at the forefront of my mind most days, is the profound resilience I came to acknowledge at the ass-end of my 30s.

As I watch people close to me struggling to find the spark within, I am fondly reminded of that which raged up, ravaged, and ran through me. After years of simmering in complacency, and a brief–albeit smoldering darkness, the bifurcation of life versus existence presented itself; entitlements be damned, there was no grace, and there’d be no apologies. No limbo. Choose.

My thirties have been the most complex years of my adult life . I experienced what it meant to be alone with company, and fear-filled in love, in tandem. I ran, faced, and surrendered to my greatest fears only to find peace and sweet, magical love in the chaos of it all. I lost my will, my way, my mind*, and my ego. I gained weight and confidence, and self-acceptance and beautiful, bountiful friendships. Blessed truth.

“…love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love.”-Mother Theresa

I surrendered my womb.

I divorced.

I watched my boy become a man, whilst ironically– on the very shoulders he offered,  my own strength would run from me and, nestle weightily for a time upon his unsteadiness. He bent. In the shame of my burdensome unraveling, I wept. And, I wept. I wept a vapid sea of melancholy only the force of my adversarial girl-child’s, rising new moon could foment from ebb to much needed tempest. Behold, the winds of Kali: tempestuous rage; enough to level my ramshackle home, psyche, and resolve.

And, in the resolute stillness of a new day, I begin to build again: more intelligently, more sustainably, lovingly, and aware. Au revoir, thirties. I’ll take that beer now.

 

Peace, and…more love, please.

*Treat your depression, people. That is all.

Comments

  1. This is beautiful in every aching word. I love the forties, the way the thirties used to be? Welcome sister! Honored to share the decade with you.

  2. Monique says:

    Beautiful and thoughtful summation – nothing but tears over here – your poignancy hit home. Much love to you as you bid adieu to the angst of “the teenage years” of adulthood – the thirties!

  3. Hasani Aisha Blue says:

    Tears of joy!!!

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  1. […] myself gently has resulted in feeling free, living simply and laughing loudly. I turned 40 this year, and contrary to popular belief, youth is NOT wasted on the young. It does not simply usurp itself, […]

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