Growing Up
I’m 20 years old, 21 in August, and I feel like an absolute mess.
I skipped a year of college, fast forwarding me to junior year. Everything around me changed in the final months of 2020 and I repressed everything I felt about it.
My childhood cat died in September, my family started moving to Sacramento in November, my grandpa died in December. I never processed any of those things and it didn’t feel purposeful that I hadn’t. I felt I never had time to sit down and sort through my feelings one by one, but instead it felt more efficient to keep moving forward until the bad things caught up. I didn’t want to talk to anyone about any of these major things. I only wanted to keep moving. I hate sharing myself that way.
Some good things came from the year. I’m still with the boy who helped me pick up my life after I dropped out of my first college in January of last year. We’ve started building a life together and it’s been both beautiful and terrifying to be this vulnerable. He’s taught me a lot about getting comfortable with the things I can’t plan and letting him take care of me during the worst.
Losing my grandpa was definitely one of the tougher things I faced. I learned of his death alone in my partner’s apartment. My dad called me and the world fell apart.
Three hours later my partner came home from work, and I was still huddled in the bed, unsure of how to feel or react. I wanted him there, and at the same time, I didn’t want him to see me in that state. Just before we went to bed I lost myself again, saying “no one was there with him” as I shook and unraveled.
The next morning, I immediately tried to occupy myself with cleaning, but would quickly become overwhelmed and need to lie back down on the bed again. My partner came and held me through it.
As 2020 came to a close I struggled to let go of one piece of my life in particular. My family moving to Sacramento for my dad’s new job meant we had to let go of my childhood home, the only home I had ever known. For all of my screaming to leave that city, I had always trusted I could return to it on my own terms and that my home would always be waiting for my return.
Now it’s not.
In the days leading up to the move, I drove home to help my mom with the final cleaning, and even then I refused to let myself think too long on the thought of leaving.
The first time I had felt that, it consumed me in panic and I quickly had to pack it away. I never wanted to feel that again.
But that day, I had to. Upstairs in the winter sun I held my remaining cat close to my heart, watching the tears hit his fur as he looked at me in confusion. I walked through each room, letting 20 years of memories touch me with soft fingers. I thought I had collected myself as I walked downstairs to my mom, I hadn’t. One hug reduced us to tears.
I was watching the end of an era. The end of my childhood. A new stage in my adulthood.
I waved goodbye, packed the last of my things in my car, and cried the whole way to the apartment where my partner was waiting. I cried while I unpacked, refusing to stop because the clutter was driving me mad. It was after I started putting the new sheets on the bed that I had to stop. Everything came at once and I layed on my side, sobbing as my partner held me again.
The emotion was too much and I never sat down again after that day to figure out why it hurt me as much as it did.
I think I’m going through something deep in my subconscious. Something I really don’t understand and continually refuse to take the time to sit down and sort because it feels so much bigger than myself, this void that’s growing by the day. How do I ask for help when I don’t understand what I’m experiencing?
For months I haven’t been able to sit myself down and write on here. The timing never felt right to report my experiences on 2020 and how, pandemic aside, I had been deeply hurt, humbled and left in awe by this painful year.
I’m 20 now and while I may struggle to identify what exactly I’m going through at this moment, I’ve got a couple constants to get me through it.
A partner that loves me. A partner who cared enough to stay when the times got hard and held my body together through some of the most painful moments I’ve ever experienced. A partner who’s kindness and passion for existence inspires me everyday.
A friend group from a French high school class that listened to me when I needed it most. A group that trusted pitch after pitch for some crazy adventures. A group that statistically should have never made it past graduation that now thrives today.
Two parents whose unconditional love and bravery in these tough times allowed our family to survive. Two parents whose excitement for adventure shaped my passions of today. Two parents who supported each life-changing decision I made last year, no matter their opinion.
I’m 20 now and I don’t know where I’m going, but I do know where I am. I’m at the start, and it’s OK if I don’t know what’s happening.
As I start this new phase of adulthood, I will figure out how to thrive in my own way. I will eventually work through the tough moments of last year that hurt me so deeply. I will work to calmly face these new anxieties that come with being an adult. But above all else, I will do so with the same passion and courage that has lead me through this life already.