The ages of grief

There are seasons of my life still hidden; memories repressed beneath layers of trauma.

I exist unaware, until a moment resurfaces – often fleeting, pried awake in the night by a memory. I grasp to hold it, to add this piece of information to the puzzle in my mind I am forever trying to make complete but it is gone as quickly as it came and I am left with only the emotions surrounding it; the fear, the panic, the isolation.

The grief. That I can't even begin to put into words..

It is always the grief that captures me the most. The split second of reliving that which I could almost now – so many years later – feel just like those days,. But these moments arrive and with them I am reminded of all I try and forget. I am reminded of all that was taken from me. I am reminded of the childhood I never had. Of the suffering that was not mine to carry yet it is there still, buried in my mind; land mines I have spent my life treading around with such care until the gradual years of erosion bring them to the surface; exposed.Revealing everything I have tried my best to keep locked away somewhere in the shadows of my mind...

Healing is never a straight line. There are moments of grief; yet also moments of awakening as we are broken open with such harsh beauty. We must learn to trust the voyage. To trust our memories surface at this time for a reason. Often when we are safe and able to work through them. Often when there is something we need to make sense of. Often when we are ready to heal that moment in our lives to forge ahead and make space for new moments.

We must learn to trust the process; to lean into our uncomfortable emotions. To not avoid the pain, but no longer be afraid of it either. To allow our wounds to become scars; our bodies laced with the legacy of a warrior who not only lived, but survived.This is me at 45 Choosing me. No longer apologizing. Standing in my power. Speaking my truth. Owning my worth. Taking up space. Compromising my values for no-one. Respecting myself before others. honoring my boundaries. Not allowing anyone in my life who chooses not to. No longer giving away precious time and energy to those who have not earned these things. Keeping my circle small, and close. Walking in grace and mercy. Living in authenticity. Accepting my flawed, messy self. Refusing to turn back. Allowing those who want to leave, to do so. Having nothing to prove. Learning, always. Growing. Making mistakes. Rebelling against fear. Leaning into courage. No longer being who I think I should be. Unafraid of who I really am. Still healing. No more hiding. Taking risks. Burning expectations to the ground. Dancing in their ashes. Forgiving myself. Calling the word NO a complete sentence. Falling asleep drowning. Waking with poetry in my lungs. Finding joy. Laughing more. Breathing in grief. Breathing out hope. Becoming stronger, yet softer. Learning to love the darkest places within this winter solstice woman; this complex, conflicted, complicated contradiction existing inside the cusp, ruled by the moon and pulled by the tides, forever drawn to the ocean, ever-changing, never still, living somewhere between victory and loss, loving the only way I know how; with reckless abandon. This is me..Like me Love me Hate me that is up to you to decide,and only you the person you see before you is all I know how to be,,imperfect beyond words, but some how everything I'm supposed to be at this point in my life,,,The only thing I know how to be Me.... The more I begin to heal the less I find myself apologizing for it.It would be easy to say sorry.Sorry for the ways I have pulled away.Sorry for the ways I have let you down.Sorry for the messages I have not replied to.Sorry for the calls I have not answered.Sorry for my absence.Sorry for my silence.Sorry I can no longer meet your expectations.Sorry I can no longer meet your needs.Sorry I can no longer put your needs above my own.Except, I’m not sorry.Because, the thing is, it isn’t me that needs to heal.It’s the little girl within me; the wounded child that nobody protected. Or stood up for. Or put first. Or made to feel mattered.The girl who was not heard, or seen.The girl who grew up believing the needs of others were more important than her own.That her body was not her own.That her voice would never be heard.That she wasn’t worth the respect of others.That love was something to be earned.That boundaries could be crossed by whoever so pleased.That her value was not in what she could give, but only in what others could take.I am fighting for her, because no one else ever did.I am putting her first, because no one else ever did.I am standing between her and the world; honoring her, protecting her, nurturing her, allowing her the time and space to mend her brokenness without more being taken when there is nothing left to give; without more of the world pulling her in every direction with its demands and expectations.Because she matters. Because I matter.I am choosing to heal the way I need to; my time, my way.I am choosing me.And I will no longer apologize for that to no one..You may say I'm being selfish, I say I'm trying to survive the time I have left in peace.