It's My Party, and I'll Cry If I Want To
It's My Party, and I'll Cry If I Want To
Reflections on Growth and Transformation
I’ve never experienced growing pains quite like I am right now in my life. We hear about the terrible twos, the moody teen years, and even the midlife crisis, but there’s something unique about the stage where you begin to dig deep within yourself, tend to your deepest wounds, and start to transform. Not everyone engages in this work because it’s challenging, scary, uncomfortable, and sometimes lonely. However, for those who do, they understand exactly what I’m talking about—so this is where I find myself right now.
It’s a space that isn’t necessarily defined by time or place but by an overwhelming urge to break free from the status quo and a deep need to restructure and transform everything I once knew.
I started writing this post on August 30th, just two days after my 38th birthday and coincidentally the 24th anniversary of my father’s death. I hesitated to hit publish then because I was filled with so much emotion leading up to my birthday that I hadn’t fully processed it all or what I had written. For the majority of my life now, late August has been my least favorite time of year—not only because I’m confronted with aging but also because it carries the weight of losing my father and how my life significantly changed.
I felt like I grew up overnight because I knew and felt things most other adolescents didn’t. I tried not to be a burden to my mother, and I didn’t fit in with my peers. With each passing year, I continued to exist in this way: ignoring my needs and feeling more alone. Each August was marked by grief rather than joy. And to be honest, I still don’t fully know how to embrace the occasion.
What was meant to be a celebratory birthday trip to Italy this year turned into yet another form of escape. To avoid running away fully, I began to reflect and write this post. My goal was to find clarity amidst the complexities of my emotions as I navigate these growing pains and embrace the reality that this is my party, and I can cry if I want to.
I called this past year “my year of healing” and took a pause, moving back to Chicago, where I had community, purpose, and a lower cost of living to help support me through my Long Covid journey. Little did I know at the time that Long Covid was just the tip of the iceberg. Beneath the surface lay much more to tend to, including autoimmune issues, nervous system dysregulation, and, buried deepest of all, everyone’s favorite word: trauma.
While I wish I could wrap up my thirty-seventh year in a bow and set it aside forever, I realize that this process is evolving alongside me as the calendar moves forward.
Though “my year of healing” continues onward, my time in Chicago has reached its expiration date. For years, I ignored my intuition to move on; even when I did listen, I somehow circled back into my comfort zone. Part of this work is learning to be okay with discomfort. So this year, my decision to leave is more definitive. In July, I packed up my apartment again, put my belongings in storage, and set off in search of a new place to ground myself and call home.
While this journey is familiar, my approach now carries greater intention, independence, and, most importantly, trust. I also feel intuitively that this next chapter is bringing me closer to alignment with my true self.
I just turned thirty-eight, a year that held significant meaning to me and one that I deemed “old” in my younger years. It’s the age my mother was when she was widowed and left to raise my siblings and me alone. At that time, my older brother and sister were 18 and 16, I was 14, and my younger sister was 12. I remember thinking her life was over—that she would never date again and would be fulfilled solely by us for the rest of her days.
Now that I’ve reached this age, I hold a different viewpoint. I started to notice my perspective shift in my twenties, often feeling disbelief at how, at my age, my mother had several children while I was moving states, back in school, and searching for love. Though it’s not surprising, as I can recall in great detail her surprise 30th birthday party at our local Chinese restaurant.
Despite having wildly different experiences than my mother, which has led me to see this age as a milestone, I truly feel that this is where life begins. I know that some of my greatest experiences are still to come. This period—whether its’ thirty-eight or in that undefined space where one chooses to do the work—offers the most profound growth and endless possibilities.
For a long time, I repeated patterns, avoided deeper self-inquiry, and ignored my gut intuition. I sought advice and direction from others and made most decisions out of fear. My years of living in Chicago, despite my intuition urging otherwise, stemmed from complacency and a fear of the unknown. I followed the societal rubric I believed I was supposed to, collecting degrees, pursuing passions, and breathing life into new ventures. But in the end, it never truly worked for me.
I changed jobs and switched fields. I invested in myself, became my own boss, and created opportunities along the way. I found love and lost it time and time again. I took on the caretaker role for my family, witnessed my elders take their last breaths, and experienced the miracle of new life when I became an aunt. I even had the chance to travel the world—all while being asleep to my truest desires.
My experience with Covid forced me to step back and reassess where I have been and where I want to go. It was a complete breakdown of mind and body and a full restructuring of self. I started to prioritize my mental health with the same diligence as my physical health, explored the concept of reparenting, and nurtured my own heart. Now, I coexist with anxiety rather than let it control me, and I’ve worked to release significant fears and blockages.
I’ve made really hard decisions to go no contact with some family and invested in non-blood relatives. I found a tiny soulmate in my Yorkie and felt freedom in the mountains and forests. I emerged from burnout, and I realized what I actually want. I started to trust my gut, find my voice, and feel inspired.
As I continue to pick up the pieces, I see the importance of releasing the illusion of control and learning to fully trust and surrender to what comes next.
Now, when I look in the mirror, I can finally see myself clearly. It goes beyond the new grooves in my forehead and my first few gray hairs. I see a woman who is finally awake, and I couldn’t be more proud of her.
In my original writing, I detailed some of the layers of challenges I’ve overcome. However, I realize this post is less about those specifics and more about sharing a sense of inspiration. We can check in with ourselves at any moment and begin asking important questions. We have the power to change or choose something new whenever we wish. This hope fosters deeper healing and a greater understanding of ourselves.
While it may not be the terrible twos, the tumultuous teens, or even the dreaded midlife, this season is still painful, profound, and powerful, holding within it a wealth of potential and opportunities for growth.
What’s Coming Up?
200-Hour Yoga Teacher Training Begins Fall/Winter 2024-2025: Hybrid Program: Retreat Portion In-person and Online- Go At Your Pace!
Yoga and Surfing Retreat to Nicaragua: March 2 - 8, 2025
Starved Rock Yoga Retreat: July 11 - 13, 2025
Amalfi Coast Italy Yoga Retreat: August 30 - September 6, 2025