Not Too Deep

into my memory

The space from her birth and my rebirth deepens. It’s an evolving void of transformational and transitional liminality. Echoes of past guidance nudge me to confront solitude and introspection again. To sit with the weight of my actions. To sit with what I’ve done. Who I’ve become. Am I proud of it?

In thinking of my proudest moments, I must also come to terms with past interactions that were often led with anger. I unleashed rage upon those who, perhaps, warranted it, and yet I lament the cast it brought upon my own idea of self. Though, if I hadn’t let it rip, who would I be but an actor, concealing the raw truths of my existence?

The journey of postpartum has taught me the peril of harboring unproductive fury. As this chapter of my life begins to embalm and wrap itself in cloth, it yellows and softens with the passage of time. I learn to implement more measured responses to the disrespect and disregard for my humanity as I continue to navigate life with my child. Through consistency, I seek to lay the groundwork for a future built on sustainability and trust—a path forward illuminated by a consistent glow of integrity and love.

This crucible of experience has left an undeniable mark on my soul. My legacy, embossed with my daughter’s name, has newfound clarity, forcing me to sift through the remnants of my journey, discerning which truths I willingly embrace and which karmic debts I am prepared to reconcile. The profound impact of this initiation opens my heart to return to self-discovery. My vulnerability leading me to unlock a remembrance of my intentions and my boundless potential.

Water has become a means of connecting to this memory of myself. I’m compelled to return to the bodies of water that I once sat by religiously. I find myself craving frequent submergence and ingestion. While time propels me forward, the river pulls me back to reality. I returned to the river today. I returned to a trail that I walked alone years before my babe’s seed was fertilized. Tracing the footsteps of past versions of myself allowed for forgotten visions of my future to resurface.

What’s interesting is that I walked this same riverside path on babe’s first birthday, followed by my growing support system. I hadn’t felt the flashbacks rush in at that moment. But this time, walking alone, followed by quick, heavy, short strides of my mini me, I realized: long before her growth, I planted the seed in my own mind of having a companion, someone to join me in this stride toward self-realization and grounded living. So, when I walked that narrow path on the edge of the river bank, I looked back with my hand on my heart. There she was—the little one that my spirit had longed to meet, following me and pointing with excitement for the gently flowing water, the smoothed rocks, and the others who reveled in the midday hike.

And what about loneliness? Since this is a common theme. It has stayed with me during the tumultuous endeavor of living with growing a new body, adopted boundaries, and heart wrenching sacrifice. Let this loneliness guide me toward understanding that this life is meant to be grounded in my own energy. Let it bring me to gratitude in having another lone being by my side to propel me toward myself.

THANK YOU. THANK YOU. THANK YOU.

Abby xx