Picking Up the Pieces
I can remember as a little girl asking my mom how old she was. She would always respond "29," like she somehow reached this magic age and never aged again. For what seemed like many years, until I was no longer so gullible, I believed her. Well, last week I celebrated my own 29th birthday and it got me thinking. Will 29 be my forever age? I mean, 30 is the new 20, right? So what's the big deal? While 30 is just a number, it causes you to take a step back and look at the life you lived up to this point, your future and what you'll leave behind. So in the last year of my 20's I've decided to do just that - examine the life I've lived thus far and set goals for where I'm going in my future. In doing this, though, I've had to uncover some of the not-so-pretty moments of my past that have led me to where I am today.
In high school I was a cutter. For many reasons - some known, many unknown, I took to inflicting physical pain on myself so as to mask the emotional pain I was feeling. I didn't cut myself because I wanted to die. I simply didn't know how to live. While I wasn't truly alone, I felt as though I was. I was lost. As a result, throughout much of my young adult life, I sought the help of a few professionals, I numbed myself with anti-depressants and I self medicated by keeping busy with many after school activities. Eventually I learned to live my life despite dealing with occasional depression and I found my normal. I went through the motions and I did find happiness in many aspects of my life. I still experienced ups and downs, but I learned to cope.
I thought I put most of that past behind me up until about two and a half years ago when my life took an unexpected turn and I sunk into the deepest depression I have known thus far in my life. It became a time when life felt almost unbearable. Staying in bed seemed much simpler than facing the day. Starving myself was easier than forcing food down. Withdrawing from those I loved seemed better than talking to them. Once again I was lost. I didn't know how to live. I retreated to a very dark place and in this place of loneliness, sadness, anger and confusion, I made my home. As the mom of a young child, though, there wasn't much time to be depressed. I pulled away from my son. I felt selfish and guilty for neglecting Little J in such an emotional way. He saw the way I was and he felt it. I know he did. Once again I felt myself going through the motions of life and for his sake, I tried to cover up what I was feeling so that I could give him the life he deserved. Even so, I don't think I was truly present in his life - not the way he needed me to be.
I read somewhere that once you hit rock bottom there is nowhere to go but up. Sparing you the details of what my rock bottom looked like, I realized upon reaching it that it was time to start picking up the pieces of the world I believed to have crumbled around me. So in this, the last year of my 20's, that's what I am doing. I'm picking up the pieces. I am setting goals. Each goal is a small piece that will help build me up to the mother/wife/daughter/sister/friend - woman - that I have the potential to be. For the reality is that I don't get to stay 29 years old forever. Yes, 30 is just a number, but life goes on, at a fast pace at that, and I want to live it to the fullest. I will falter and I will stumble. I will encounter rough times. This is certain. But as I've learned from my past before, I will only continue to learn and I will keep going through life, picking up the pieces as I go, moving up in life and creating the future that I want.
Don't get me wrong, I have many things in my life that bring me great happiness and I am blessed in many ways. This is in no way meant to be a sob story, but a story of hope. A story of growth. A story of reality. Depression is real and it is something that I will have to deal with for the rest of my life, but it is how I deal with it that will be important.
Perhaps no one else will read my words, but for me they will serve as a roadmap. I can't move forward without knowing where I've been. I am still learning to live, still trying to find myself. 29 is only the start of a new journey - nowhere to go but up.
In high school I was a cutter. For many reasons - some known, many unknown, I took to inflicting physical pain on myself so as to mask the emotional pain I was feeling. I didn't cut myself because I wanted to die. I simply didn't know how to live. While I wasn't truly alone, I felt as though I was. I was lost. As a result, throughout much of my young adult life, I sought the help of a few professionals, I numbed myself with anti-depressants and I self medicated by keeping busy with many after school activities. Eventually I learned to live my life despite dealing with occasional depression and I found my normal. I went through the motions and I did find happiness in many aspects of my life. I still experienced ups and downs, but I learned to cope.
I thought I put most of that past behind me up until about two and a half years ago when my life took an unexpected turn and I sunk into the deepest depression I have known thus far in my life. It became a time when life felt almost unbearable. Staying in bed seemed much simpler than facing the day. Starving myself was easier than forcing food down. Withdrawing from those I loved seemed better than talking to them. Once again I was lost. I didn't know how to live. I retreated to a very dark place and in this place of loneliness, sadness, anger and confusion, I made my home. As the mom of a young child, though, there wasn't much time to be depressed. I pulled away from my son. I felt selfish and guilty for neglecting Little J in such an emotional way. He saw the way I was and he felt it. I know he did. Once again I felt myself going through the motions of life and for his sake, I tried to cover up what I was feeling so that I could give him the life he deserved. Even so, I don't think I was truly present in his life - not the way he needed me to be.
I read somewhere that once you hit rock bottom there is nowhere to go but up. Sparing you the details of what my rock bottom looked like, I realized upon reaching it that it was time to start picking up the pieces of the world I believed to have crumbled around me. So in this, the last year of my 20's, that's what I am doing. I'm picking up the pieces. I am setting goals. Each goal is a small piece that will help build me up to the mother/wife/daughter/sister/friend - woman - that I have the potential to be. For the reality is that I don't get to stay 29 years old forever. Yes, 30 is just a number, but life goes on, at a fast pace at that, and I want to live it to the fullest. I will falter and I will stumble. I will encounter rough times. This is certain. But as I've learned from my past before, I will only continue to learn and I will keep going through life, picking up the pieces as I go, moving up in life and creating the future that I want.
Don't get me wrong, I have many things in my life that bring me great happiness and I am blessed in many ways. This is in no way meant to be a sob story, but a story of hope. A story of growth. A story of reality. Depression is real and it is something that I will have to deal with for the rest of my life, but it is how I deal with it that will be important.
Perhaps no one else will read my words, but for me they will serve as a roadmap. I can't move forward without knowing where I've been. I am still learning to live, still trying to find myself. 29 is only the start of a new journey - nowhere to go but up.