I originally typed out that 25 was a year of growth for me. But, that’s too generalized and deceptive. So was it a year of regression? Because that’s the opposite of growth, right?
To me, growth always meant more, it meant new, it meant action. It meant constantly trying to become. Which made just being scary. But, the biggest misconception I had about growth is that it’s strictly an additive procedure.
I believed I wasn’t already that person I wanted to become. That I was somehow lacking and didn’t already possess all that goodness inside myself. I allowed growth to cover over that wondrous child-like knowing, where there’s this innocent trust in oneself and exuberance in the slightest of things.
25 was not additive in anyway for me, it was subtractive. I needed to uncover and work with what I already had. I needed to strip myself down and dig. I needed to pause and reassess. I needed to learn contentedness. It was more a year of realizing that getting better isn’t always the answer and sometimes it’s the problem.
25 was a year spent listening to and questioning the things that needed my attention. It was a year of intentionally not looking for answers, but more a year of remembering them. It was a year spent trying to be gentle and kind with the parts of myself I don’t like. It was a year of not resisting anything but creating space for it all. It was a year of learning to give up control. It was a year spent rewriting the rules of my life, redefining the who, what, when, where and how. It was a year spent learning what I need and how to get it.
But mostly, it was a year of rediscovering the love, trust and belief that I have for myself. It was a year of dusting off that beautiful childish way of being, while at the same time, gaining eternal understanding that comes through suffering. I hope I can continue to fuse the two in year 26.