I think about the points in our lives when we change from girls to women. When was the last time I played with a doll? Because one day I picked up my barbie doll I had named Ashley with her big fluff of curly hair for the last time. Now she is packed away with my prom dress and yearbooks.
My niece is ten. She is still a girl, she reminds me of myself at her age. Full of energy, full of life, when she feels things, she feels them with her whole body. I think about this when I see her cry. She cries the way I used to. So hard that the sobs rock her little body, she can’t catch her breath so you must with gentle hands remind her to breathe, she tires herself out crying. I used to cry like this as if the act of crying could forcibly remove the negative emotions from my body.
Now I cry quietly, tears slip down my cheeks of their own accord. I wipe them away with my hands banishing them from existence. I cry in the lonely sort of way where I hope no one sees how I break and crumble like Christmas gingerbread house in July.
When did this change happen? Was it in high school when I was too embarrassed by my emotions that I would hide in the bathroom and cry? Or was it when my mom died and I felt like I had to be strong or my whole world might fall apart. Or the year and a half of an abusive relationship where I felt that my feelings weren’t valid or important? Maybe it’s that one day people stopped reminding me to breathe with gentle hands drawing circles on my back.
My niece reminds me of the girl I used to be, she is strong and stubborn, beautiful, and kind. This is how I know she’ll be alright. I hope she doesn’t face the same challenges I did as she matures, but whatever may come I know she’ll come out the other side with a smile of victory.
Just like I did.