Growing Through What I’m Going Through

Growing pains don’t end when you’re older

“And still there is joy” Designed by Carmellita (Author) in Canva

On the morning of my birthday, November 2, 2024, I lay in bed, determined to get up but feeling the walls close in around me. I took deep yogic breaths in eight-count rhythms, shifting to the breath of fire and then back again, trying to ease the weight on my chest.

Eyes closed, I focused on my breath to release the mental clutter: the unfinished projects far beyond their deadline, the social obligations I committed to months ago, and the lingering exhaustion no amount of sleep seemed to alleviate.

Each breath hushed the badgering thoughts taunting, “What now, girl? It’s the middle of Q4.”

But I made a decision — one I’ve recommitted to each day since edema and complications from COVID-19 threw my life into disarray.

I decided to show up for myself.

I remember the first time I had to will myself out of bed. I was 16 years old and broke up with my boyfriend for the last time. (Yes, that’s another story.) I’d promised myself I would never cry over a boy, but there I was crying, sniffing, trying to breathe through it.

Buried deep under the covers with my heartache, I heard a soft knock at the door. I mumbled, “Come in.”