I’m at a major point of transition in my life. Just weeks ahead of me is a major shift in my career. I’ve caught up to some critical realizations about myself—from how I’ve handled previous traumas and heartbreak, to how I’ve held on to attachments to perfection, even when it came to healing.
It’s a wild understatement of sorts when I say that I am an over-thinker. Having lived in survival mode for much of my life, I grew up learning to expect the worst. After almost a decade of therapy, reorganizing the relationships in my life, reclaiming my sense of identity, reconfiguring my neurophysiological response to the triggers of my past traumas, letting go of the guilt that’s previously come with setting boundaries, acknowledging the flaws of my own humanity, and honoring the time to breathe, I’m glad that I’ve finally got some things figured out.
And while I’ve got a lot more growing to do and corners to visit, I’m grateful for the path I’ve left behind me, now paved and safer to revisit whenever the time comes.
I think about that younger version of me—scared, helpless, and alone. I visit her from time to time to let her know I’m doing well, and when I sense she feels a little scared, I reach back and give her a hug.