without knowing, i spent the last year grieving about the dramatic breakup with my twenties. a period of youth, growing pains, impulsive behavior, adventure, and freedom. it was my imperfectly perfect love story, that was until april 14, 2016.  it was the day i was unwillingly introduced to a new decade.  a decade known as my thirties. i wasn’t fond of this new relationship.  in fact, my thirties meant the opposite of my twenties.  it wasn’t a period of youth–i considered it old.  i didn’t foresee growing pains–i imagined achy, bone pains.  there was no room for impulsive behavior–my behavior had to be justified with reasonable decisions.  how could there be adventure and freedom–my freedom would be restricted.  all of this had frightened me.  so why would i be excited about turning thirty? there i was fearful of leaving behind the love of my twenties and entering an entire year of grief over the loss of a decade that i could never get back.  i experienced denial & isolation, anger,  and bargaining, depression, and slowly but surely reached a moment of acceptance.  so for the next thirty days, the next thirty days before my thirty first birthday, i am going to reflect on the painful breakup of my twenties and recall the emotional grieving process of losing the roller-coaster thrill of being young, wild, and free.

[These are my open notes. Over the next month, I am making them public until my birthday on April 14th. Next up, denial & isolation.]