by: EileenPosted on:

Grieving 20s

I feel like I’m grieving my 20s.
An entire decade of my life.
There is so much I lost in those years.
So much life I lost. So much chaos. So much destruction that I then internalized into self-destruction while simultaneously building a career in the mental health field.
I lost myself.
I lost my ability to be present in my happiness without the support of drugs and alcohol.
I forgot how to live and functioned solely in survival.
That was until my baby came.
Until my body began to demand that I pay closer attention. That I be kinder to her, drink water, eat food, eliminate toxins, sleep more and slow down.
I still didn’t do this perfectly.
I still on occasion sipped some wine.
I was dehydrated when I went into the hospital as my contractions increased in intensity.
I fought, a lot, with my partner who was rapidly slipping into a deeper state of chaos and destruction.
I cried.
I screamed.
I felt eternally alone.
I felt trapped.
I also felt love growing in me.
I felt peace growing in me.
I felt strength growing in me.
I felt my daughter changing me literally from the inside out and I thought it was the most beautiful thing I had ever experienced.
Watching my breasts swell, my veins thicken, my uterus expand and harden. I began to feel again in my forced sobriety what it really felt like to live.

I was 30 years old when I concieved.
31 when I gave birth.

So much was lost in my 20s.
So much more has been gained in my 30s.
So much grief has yet to be felt though and I am starting to feel it flood my body.
My daughter isn’t there this time to buffer the blow.
As I unfold the layers of scaring I expose truths that are hard to stomach.
I have helped others more than I have helped myself.
I have valued others more than I have valued myself.
I don’t remember the last time I was happy. Pregnancy was the first time I had actually felt safe in my body.
Then I lost it.
I long to have those feelings again.

For now it’s the grief that floods.