goodbye, twenties. hello, thirties.
When I turned twenty it wasn’t a huge ordeal. According to Facebook, the day was “boring” and I saw Django Unchained with my mama. I was single, a 4.0 college sophomore, a clerk at an ice cream parlor, a sales associate at my college bookstore, almost two months natural, and a church girl. Not tryin’ to hurt nobody. Doin’ the best I could. Happy on my own, with my friends, without a man.
In my early twenties, I began to question my identity and the world around me. Trayvon Martin and Michael Brown, among others, propelled me into various social justice groups and causes. I began sharing space with so many beautiful, kind, and intelligent people during this time. People who radicalized me and inspired me to be better at self care and community care.
After graduating college, I worked for a string of non-profits and did my best impression of “being an adult.” I navigated a turbulent relationship, traveled, and ultimately moved away from my hometown of twenty-five years.
As time went on, I experienced my fair share of mistakes, losses, and heartache. These moments were, unsurprisingly, the most difficult to manuever. No person, quote, or self-help book prepares you for when life turns on its head.
When Vision said, “What is grief, if not love perservering?” I felt that in my core. I didn’t approach grief in the healthiest way during my twenties. However, with each loss I became a little bit stronger. I learned to detach my worth from people, jobs, and material things. I learned to detach shame from vulnerability and surrender to people taking care of me. And most importantly, I learned that the right people will show up without question and love all of you.
The majority of my late twenties was spent rebuilding, creating life-long memories, falling in love again, and not loosing my mind during the pandemic. The last few years taught me that it’s okay to not know everything or have everything figured out. I continued to make mistakes and experience loss and heartache. I became gentelier with myself and other people. I opened myself up to uncertainty and began loosening the deathgrip I had on perfectionism. Oh, and I stepped into my queer identity.
Today, I am 30. I still feel like I’m fumbling my way though adulthood. There’s a lot of uncertainty about the future. Where will I be living? What will my career look like? When will Beyoncé drop the visuals for Renaissance? I just don’t know. What I do know is that I am entering this new decade of my life with far more wisdom than before. I hope that I will continue to move with intention and care. Even on my worst days. I look forward to living more life and creating more memories in my thirties.
Thank you for everything, my twenties.