Year No. 28: The Wavemaker [Shelby's Intimate Recounting + Reflection On Saying Goodbye To 28 And Turning 29.]
Year No. 28: The Wavemaker
This blog article is an intimate reflection from my personal journey I wanted to share from my 28th year being alive, coming into my 29th year.
28, you were sweet, you were courageous, you taught me a lot.
When we started off our relationship together, you were a little tense. You had lots of promises, and you had so much purpose and drive all around you. You were so pressurized, like at any given moment - you might explode. I couldn't always tell what was on your mind, but there was always something.
You were in the fertility specialist's office with me when he spoke the words that brought my greatest secret nightmare to life. You stared at that ultrasound when he showed me where eggs would be, there was only fluid. "Just an unfortunate, strange phenomenon." You were there holding my hand at the end of that long, treacherous tunnel.
You shoveled dirt with me on the casket of the future I thought I was supposed to have.
You heard the sounds of my heart obliterating, cradled up in the fetal position in the far side bedroom so no one could see me, covered in pillows, sheets, blankets, anything to hide my mourning the loss of a future I would never get to experience.
You were in those punching gloves, knuckles bloodied, when I couldn't throw another punch, with my lungs couldn't let out another scream, another guttural yell of absolute rage, indignation, and fury from the injustice I perceived the universe dealt me.
You were on that phone call with Jessica, when all I wanted was to shoot machine guns of blame at anyone close to me, like a wild animal forced into captivity. You were there when I realized I wasn't something that needed to be fix.
You shoveled dirt with me on the casket of the future I thought I was supposed to have.
You were with me when I stopped blaming and started thanking.
You were with me when I stopped blaming and started thanking. When I invited my body back inside from the cold, no longer marooned to the land where the betrayers, liars, and the thieves go.
You were with me when I interviewed the tall blonde girl who said she was passionate about video. When we assembled the shelves for our new office. When we laughed too hard on the parking deck during the photo shoot. When we configured the new podcast recording equipment.
You were with me when I carried the boxes of my belongings downstairs. When Chris and I held one another and whispered our love to one another. When I counted the days I chose to honor myself like the days of a recovering addict being sober.
You were with me at 3 AM listening to back to back guided meditations to make it through the night. Those nights I held you closer than I ever have before.
When the panel said, "You're too much. People can't handle that. You'll rock the boat too much. You'll offend someone. You'll deter people. Be a little more all-audiences friendly." you were in the room when I said, "Thank you, you can go now."
You were in that yellow raincoat, walking through hurricane winds, huddled away in the abandoned home, whispering, "You can do this."
You were with me in the fury of the high tide, the crashing waves, my own inner angry seas, when I went to battle and drowned that whiny, complacent voice that said, "This is too uncomfortable. You're going to get hurt. You can't do this. These waves are too big. You can't do this." and through gritted teeth, a louder voice within me roared, "I fucking LIVE for this. I LOVE this. I was MADE for this. I have EVERYTHING I need." And charged into those waves.
"I fucking LIVE for this. I LOVE this. I was MADE for this. I have EVERYTHING I need."
You taught me that my journey is my own. That my wisdom is not dictated by days I've been in this lifetime, nor the median demographics around me. My expressions aren't limited to what culturally is "correct." I am not meant to wait for the waves to ride, I am the wavemaker. I am the force to be reckoned with.
I am not meant to wait for the waves to ride, I am the wavemaker. I am the force to be reckoned with.
You were with me when my fortress of "I have to be right" came crashing down, the earth cracking open and offering me the gentle, open-hearted love I'd only dreamt of.
28 you taught me that on the other side of my rigid spine of mountainous crags that said, "I made a decision, and now I can't go against myself, or it means I'm weak." there's an easy-flowing river of the sweetness I'd only heard of in fables.
You taught me that my ability to nurture, grow, protect, and create life has nothing to do with genetics, doctors' offices, medical diagnosis', waiting rooms, or ultrasounds.
You taught me that my ability to nurture, grow, protect, and create life has nothing to do with genetics, doctors' offices, medical diagnosis', waiting rooms, or ultrasounds.
You taught me my ability to be feminine, alluring, and desirable has nothing to do with replicating, acting, copying, but by being. Resting in the places of quiet stillness in reverence of the ever radiating life that courses through my veins.
That my ability to build a family has nothing to do with eggs, but everything to do with the heart that beats wildly in my chest. The heart I have neglected, wrote off, thought lesser of — was the very landscape the seeds of my desires need to grow. Not force, challenge, forging, bull-dozing, but understated, unseen, quiet surrender.
28 you taught me that when I hold your hand, and I learn to follow my heart and intuition, I can never fail.
You've been a beautiful companion these last 365 days, and I thank you for your presence in my journey.