Time To Begin
- 4 hours ago
- 4 min read
I've been thinking a lot about time lately. How much we have, how much is taken, how much is anticipated and expected. How precious it is. How haunting it can be. How, ultimately, it can be the only thing that heals you.
Personally, Ive always fallen into the "anticipated and expected" category, believing to my very core that the evolution of my life would happen on my own timeline and in a specific way. I would go to college, find inspiration in my major, graduate and spread my wings in the workforce, fall in love, get married, buy a home, have kids - all before I was 30. THIRTY. Saying that feels crazy now, because none of what I planned for happened when I expected, or at all.
It's the anticipation of growing up and the expectation of arriving that can ultimately yield the most disappointment. And that's exactly where my story starts.
What did happen: I graduated college with my bachelor's in Psychology, and got a job shortly after working at a psychiatric inpatient facility here in Grand Rapids. I fell in love with my best friend, who I've been with for 7 years now, and I had hope for a bright future that was just beginning.
What went unseen: I had to take a semester off in the middle of my Junior year to recover from an eating disorder. I graduated a year late. 9 months into working at said psychiatric inpatient facility, Covid hit. Trauma seeped into my bones and didn't hit me until my body had completely broken down - I was so sick that I had to quit. I spent 6 months in doctors offices trying to figure out what was wrong. I had a botched wisdom teeth removal that sent me to the hospital Christmas morning, keeping me at my parent's house for the foreseeable future - I spent almost 2 years there recovering.
The heartbreak that comes from looking in the mirror and not recognzing yourself or your life, is indescribable. My eyes and hair color were dull. I adopted a jaded, lifeless stare. My once resilient and positive outlook on life and what I could mentally handle, morphed into cynicism. All the things that made me, me - creativity, friendships, joy, purpose in helping others - were gone. It felt like the floors of my soul gave out, and I watched every good thing about myself disappear into the abyss.
Time, simply, stood still. From the age of 23-27 I wasn't in my body - instead just existing in nothingness. So when I moved back to Grand Rapids, back in with my boyfriend, it felt like I was re-learning how to "be". I had to force myself to focus on little things, like the sun hitting my skin, something I used to soak in like a warm embrace. When we were around his family, I had to blink away the sadness the clouded my vision and kept dragging me away from being present. My manic thoughts that kept me up at night had to stop - I started seeing my therapist again. Even the beauty in every day things, I had to let develop, slowly, like waiting for a polaroid photo to come into focus.
Even though the time that passed every single day felt wasted, it was the moments that started trickling in after that made me stop and savor, to smile - like the relief that comes from recovering from a dry, lifeless drought.
I'll never forget the first time in years that I genuinely, without abandon, laughed out loud. It was probably about 4 months after I moved back to GR in September of 2023, and in that moment, tears pricked my eyes because it was that act of joy that reminded me I hadn't felt it in years. And every moment since then, the ice stiffening every surface of my skin has been slowly thawing.
Which, brings me to now. During this introspective season of my life, I’ve (finally) accepted that time isn’t going to slow down. It does not care about my timeline, and not everything is just going to fall right into place, as I once thought. Time is going to take, and give, and change the colors of your life from vibrant, to gray, to golden and back. And as I'm entering a new decade, I’ve developed this fear that if I don’t start acting on the things that are calling to me here and now, then I’ll be waiting forever. Now is all I - we - have.
So, this blog is my way to honor "now". To celebrate the revelation of time healing old wounds. To reflect on and share my life, in the hopes that maybe this will help others feel seen and known. To enjoy the process of writing again and embrace my creativity, no matter how clumsy it may feel at the beginning. To build community and share in universal experiences of feeling behind, grieving the life you thought you’d have, struggling with mental health, doing our best to embrace change, and frankly, just doing our damn best.
These vulnerable topics and conversations are what I’ve been feeling inspired to write about for years now, and although I still don’t have a full picture of what this will become down the road, I’m excited to challenge myself to jump right in. When your heart is burning for something more, the only sure thing that will happen with inaction is the passing of time. And in this season of life, I'm not willing to waist another second.
Here's to now, the only thing that's guaranteed. Let's enjoy it.
From the bottom of my heart, thank you so much for being here. Come back each week for new posts, and if you have any suggestions, questions, or comments, please leave them down below - I’d love to hear from you!
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