Growing Pains
These days when I look in the mirror, I see less girl and more woman. The rage of teenage acne has finally quieted down, and my violently-red hair dye has faded away. It seems fitting that my teen angst has also melted away, and been replaced by a more mellow energy. I no longer want to smash windows or scream at my mother. I want to drink tea with my friends and go to sleep at 9pm. The awkward metamorphosis that is adolescence is finally over, and it is a strange, but welcome transition.
These last few months, I have held the hands of too many grieving friends and family. Too many tear-streaked faces have buried themselves into my shoulder; too many people only comforted through a phone call when they deserved a hug. These days I remind myself that the grief may be never ending, but so is the love. The best parts of my life are far better than I could have ever imagined, and the worst parts are far worse than I ever feared. Ironically, my heart grows softer and warmer every time it is squeezed by sadness or pain. What doesn’t kill you actually makes you a big softie.
Each day, I get to know the woman I am a little more. The nascent independence of young adulthood has allowed a lot of dormant buds to finally blossom, and watching this springtime unfurl has been beautiful. These growing pains are sweetbitter, not bittersweet, because the good times make the bad times worth living through.
This article was originally written for Ether Magazine. Thank you to the folks at Ether for all of their help.
