Evolving - Turning Thirty & Reflecting

I couldn't have asked for more fitting weather to celebrate turning 30. The drive to work was dark, fog filled, and ominous. As the hours passed, the fog lifted and the sun illuminated a cloud dusted blue sky.

My twenties were much like this. Periods of navigating through thick fog, not always sure of what was to come; veiled by something I couldn't escape from or see past. Followed by periods of piercing clarity, fully aware of and seeing the beauty and pain and possibility in the world around me. Cycling through darkness and light, and endless unexpected twists and turns, always returning to a place of quiet contemplation. My twenties were my awakening, fueled by a belief in myself to overcome and to succeed, to find stability and wellness. At the start of my twenties, I met the love of my life and felt a sense of safety that I had never known before. I reconnected with my dad after 10 years of rarely speaking to one another, and made efforts to build a relationship with him. I attended college, and dreamed of becoming a therapist or naturopathic doctor. I experienced the return of repressed memories, which I tried to confront but wasn't yet ready for. I moved through phases of depression and wellness. Aspen and I went through the process of IUI, trying to conceive, and got married shortly thereafter. During my mid twenties, I experienced an extended period of severe dissociation, in which I formed new relationships and moved out of my home. I lost myself completely, riddled with confusion and contradiction, fell prey to narcissistic abuse, and made questionable decisions. I attended therapy briefly, attempting to understand what was going on and process, but was unable to make a deep connection. Nearly a year later, I felt the fog lift, and returned to myself again in bewilderment, with a dog by my side. Aspen and I started our own business, and succeeded at generating our own income. I experienced loss and grief four years in a row, with the death of four pets, followed by my dad. I struggled with severe depression and relentless flashbacks of childhood sexual abuse. Entering my late twenties, I found a therapist who specializes in art therapy and childhood trauma, and began attending weekly therapy. I began treatment for Complex PTSD and trauma related dissociation. I gained the support and confidence to share with my wife and my mom my history with trauma and sexual abuse. I began to free myself from secrecy and shame. I started a blog as a safe space to document and share my experience with the healing of trauma, and what that process looks and feels like. I learned about parts of myself that I didn't know existed, and found a framework in which I could know and understand myself. I worked through severe lows and highs, promising to do the work and never abandon myself again. I joined a virtual support group for adult survivors of childhood sexual abuse. I celebrated moments of showing up for myself and moments of sharing what I once believed was unshareable. I acknowledged moments of struggle, and figured out how to move through them in a healthy manner. Aspen and I grew our business, moved it out of the house, and became employers. We found new hobbies, and adopted 3 kittens. I read lots of books, and wrote for hours on end. I had two pieces of writing published online, and even included my real full name on the second. I spent a lot of time alone, sitting with myself, choosing solitude over socialization. I noticed and named unhealthy behaviors and patterns, and made immense progress in improving them. I sought out the help of a psychiatrist and gave myself permission to obtain and use medication in moments of extreme distress. Support group switched to in-person meetings, bringing new connections, challenges, and opportunities. In March, I celebrated my three year anniversary of attending weekly therapy and showing up for myself. I celebrated three years of no longer numbing, no longer running or hiding from pain and suffering, but sitting with and making space for it; making the uncomfortable, comfortable; seeing myself in full view with piercing clarity - lingering clouds and all.

You were born to be real, not to be perfect.

My twenties brought new highs and new lows, great joys and great sorrows. They were confrontational, confusing, and quite difficult - emotionally, mentally, and physically. They challenged me in ways that have truly changed my life. When I was a teenager, I thought my twenties would manifest my lifelong dream of marriage and motherhood with a house full of [human] babies. I never could have anticipated the awakening that awaited, chaotic yet beautiful, forever changing me and the way I want to live and approach life.

We can't direct the wind, but we can adjust the sails.

We don't know and can't control when trauma will come knocking on our door; we can only choose when and how to answer. May my thirties bring further clarity, stability, and wellness. May they bring many moments of showing up for myself and doing the work. May they resemble the next phase of my journey: restructure, reconnect, and rise.