Personal Diary #1
The Part of Adulthood Nobody Talks About
I don’t know if this is going to become a series or not, but this is Personal Diary Number One. I just need to talk. Or write. Or get these thoughts out of my head in whatever way they come. Maybe speaking my fears out loud will help me stop carrying them alone.
Because honestly? I have a lot of them.
I miss being a kid. I miss the carefree version of me who didn’t know what was happening in the world. Everybody was alive. Life felt simple. I didn’t realize how good I had it.
People talk about aging like it’s just wrinkles, sagging skin, hormone changes, and the physical stuff women go through. But there’s a whole other side nobody warns you about:
Loss.
As you get older, you lose so many things:
You lose versions of yourself
You lose friends
You lose time
And eventually, you lose people
My cousin — the one I was close to — passed away a couple years ago. He was in his 30s. A friend we used to hang out with just died too. He was 41. My grandparents are gone. My boyfriend’s mom is sick. It feels like every few years, life takes someone else.
And every time it happens, I feel myself shift. Reinvent. Break. Rebuild. I don’t know who I am half the time. The girl I was in my 20s disappeared when I became a parent. I don’t regret being a mom, but it was another loss — another version of me I’ll never get back.
This morning I woke up at 5. I’m trying to get back to the things I used to love. Back when I was doing well, I woke up at 6 AM, went to the gym, moved my body. I’m not there yet, but my diet is better. It’s 6:50 AM as I’m writing this, and even this — this tiny act of showing up for myself — feels like something.
But even here, I feel the loss of time. The loss of energy. The loss of who I used to be.
And then there’s the world. The anxiety that comes with being older and actually understanding what’s going on. Politics. War. The economy. Trying to raise kids in a world that feels unstable. Watching stupidity go viral every day. Watching cruelty become normal. It’s exhausting.
And then there’s the job market — the constant rejection emails, the automated “we’ll keep your résumé on file” lies. They’re not keeping anything. My résumé is just another file in a system that will never look at it again. It’s loss after loss after loss.
Loss of hope.
Loss of stability.
Loss of self.
I’m fed up with loss. I’m tired of pretending it doesn’t affect me. I’m tired of carrying it quietly. So this is me saying it out loud.
This is where I am.
This is what it feels like.
This is Personal Diary Number One.
Is anyone else feeling like this let me know?