Holding Space for Yourself

The Conflicting Joy and Sadness of Yet Another Birthday

It creeps in like the shadows after a setting sun. Everything that was once so bright, is now so dark. Those moments of silence when we are left to our own volition, and we must make our own light. 

It doesn't seem to matter how many prescribed pills I take, it always comes back. Though the pills are more like a purse that helps me carry it, just a little bit easier. It's still there with me everywhere I go, but it's tucked away just a little more neatly.

I guess it happens to all of us; That feeling of fleeting time, that we should have done more, should be more, by now. 

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, though. Birthdays have a way of bringing with them so much joy, yet so much baggage. They are a yearly, tangible reminder of how fast time is really moving and slipping through our hands. 

It forces us to examine, judge, and overanalyze all the things we haven't done, when it would be more than sufficient to look at all we have.

Yet, still, I feel like I'm not enough. 

I find myself comparing myself to people who are more accomplished, more attractive, more interesting and, the cherry on top, half my age.

I don't know why I do it, yet I unconsciously do it, every year, as I try to convince myself that I don't care. Although, as I've grown older, I've learned that I'm very skilled in building these walls around myself, and creating these coping mechanisms to protect myself from feeling.

Unfortunately, the thing about walls is, although they are quite effective in keeping people out, they are also extremely effective at keeping us in. 

Although, this time, it feels different. It's still heavy as hell, and I'm already crying and feeling that old familar feeling of feeling sorry for myself, yet I'm more conscious of the fact that it will pass, and I will get through it. 

It's not that I feel even an ounce of pride for the things I've done, or that I'm finally giving myself credit. I still struggle to allow myself to feel worthy of my own support and love, let alone accepting it from others. 

I turn 29 years old next month, and I still struggle to find and maintain balance and stability, as I tend to sway violently between believing I am a badass bitch that can do and accomplish anything, to harshly critiquing everything about myself and my life, and feeling unworthy and believing that I haven't really accomplished anything.

It's that feeling of "I'm only 29" simultaneously co-existing with "holy shit, I'm already 29..."

I think we all experience that, to some degree, at some point. We are all forced to ride that wave. I suppose what is important, though, is not how far we rode it, but what we did after we fell off, and plunged into the deep. If you're reading this, I'm guessing there's a good chance that, eventually, you got back up, and tried again. We all did, and we really should give ourselves credit for how difficult that really is. To fall back down so many times, but to choose to get up and try again, no matter how many tears we cried, or pain we felt. 

We tried again

So, if you are in pieces, like I am, wondering how to interpret all these years you've collected, remember to hold space for yourself.

Cry, cry, cry if you need to, and then go grab yourself a slice of cake and remember: 

It's our day, and we can cry if we want to. 

It's the conflicting feeling of joy and sadness that comes with yet another birthday, and I'm grateful, yet exhausted.

Happy Birthday!

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