Tuesday, July 11, 2017

eve of 28

It's the eve of my 28th birthday and I just need to write. I don't know what about. But, here it is.

27 hasn't been my favorite year.
Not because it wasn't eventful. It was the most eventful year of my existence. I had a baby. A beautiful, perfect baby who is strong and opinionated and incredible. And I am so so honored to have been the person to bring her into the world. But, nonetheless, 27 has not been my favorite year.

This was a year of a lot of transition, a lot of unknown, a lot of pain. A lot of physical pain and a lot of emotional and spiritual pain. I wondered and questioned and doubted and hoped. I felt sharp pains in my abdomen and my legs felt tired after walking for ten minutes. My body grew and expanded with a new life inside of me while I watched my country make a huge huge huge mistake. And now this little life is in the world and that scares the $hit out of me.

I don't know what's going on in the world. Everything feels a little bit off and a little bit wonky. I'm not doing what I've been doing the majority of my adult life and that is scary too. Suddenly I am fully responsible for another whole entire life. Should I have brought her into the world at this moment in history? I don't know. I think about that literally every day.

But there was a voice inside me that was screaming screaming screaming out, telling me she needed to be here.

And now here she is.

And my house is a disaster. Nothing is ever put away. Even though we clean all the time. It's like once something is clean, the other something is dirty again. There's laundry everywhere. I literally never put my clothes away because I just don't have the time or the inclination. If I have a second that doesn't involve taking care of my beautiful little girl, I sure as hell don't want to spend it putting the laundry away. I'd rather hang out with Ryan or take a fricken shower.

I miss the stage. I miss the stage. so. much. And I know I'll go back. I will. I've always known I will. But, being away from it is really really hard right now. It's been a little bit over a year since I performed last but somehow it feels like ten years.

In some ways, I feel like my life had to sort of fall apart to bring this little woman into the world. Pieces of me are sort of scattered all over the place. There's that dramatic writing book that I bought that I'm dying to read but haven't started yet. There's my rolled up yoga mat in the corner that I'm dying to take to a studio. My website is still up, begging for a new headshot. That breast pump is just laying on the floor because I have to go use it every day so I can make more milk for my baby. My favorite jeans cut into my once rock solid stomach. My dreams of directing float around in my brain, poking me, prodding me, every day.

And then there's that little precious perfect baby that I GREW IN MY BODY. With her perfect dark blue eyes and her smile that takes over her entire face and the way that she sighs but it sounds like she's saying, "uh huh." And the pieces of my life stare back at me as I stare at her. There they all are. All the pieces. And I'm there, in the midst of them. I'm there, somewhere.

Who knows what the pieces will look like at 28. Who knows what the new whole is going to look like. I don't know what the new whole will look like, but I do know that someday, that whole is going to be bigger and broader and deeper and sadder and more joyful than any other Alissa there's ever been.

And maybe that's it. Maybe that's what I want to say.
Maybe that's the point.

1 comment:

  1. Oh friend! So beautifully and honestly written. You've captured what I hear the wave of new parent/motherhood is like, and you are wading those waters with vulnerability and intentionality. All your little B will ever need from you can be summed up in the iterations of those two things. You are loved and I am so proud of you. I hope you continue to exist as all the Alissa's you have been and all the Alissa's you are, and that those inform all the Alissa's you will be. I can't wait to join you (someday) on this journey of expanding and crumbling and growing. You are a good mama. And 28 is here. ❤️

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