Outgrowing girlhood
There are things we outgrow quietly, without even noticing—until one day, they no longer fit the shape of who we’ve become.
There is a last day that you wrote in a diary. A last day you made a friendship bracelet for someone else. A last day, you colored in a coloring book or even measured yourself on a wall.
Somewhere out there is a photo of me in a glittery pink dress, smiling at the camera like the early years of girlhood will last forever, she doesn’t know that they don’t. What happens to the lost days of girlhood past? What happened to the younger, more naive me? Is she gone forever, or is she hidden somewhere deep inside me?
The diaries we leave behind
I can’t tell you what happened the last day I stopped writing in my diary was like.
Diaries have always been the most personal way to get to know someone, at least in my opinion. They’re where millions of girls devote their most personal and sacred secrets, from their hallway crushes to their perceptions of themselves in their formative years.
My diaries ranged in size, volume, and content as I grew more and more serious about writing. It became a temple for all my thoughts, ideas, and beliefs. To me, my diary was my second heart, helping me find a place to put everything that was going through my head during a time when everything seemed increasingly confusing. I think, one day, I transitioned everything I was thinking on the pages of my diary into something more concrete: poetry.
Poetry has become a solace for me in my darkest times. Poetry is the confessional where I confess my sins and my introspective thoughts, and the altar where I rest my soul for people to see for themselves. My poetry is deeply personal to me, and I intentionally make it that way. I see other people’s ‘new diaries’ as well, including art forms such as paintings and sculptures, as well as music and dance.
I think as girls get older, they move what would have previously been a deep, dark secret into something they wear with pride. They carry it just as sacredly, but not as locked away.
The lost crafts
Friendship bracelets, to me, are a lost craft. Truly, there are no better childhood memories than sitting on your best friend’s bedroom floor, stringing colorful and often eccentric beads together to make the perfect design for them. You let go of one end of the string, and they all tumble down to the floor. You groan, your friend laughs, and then you try to remember the pattern all over again. There was no better feeling than putting that bracelet on your friend’s wrist and seeing their face split open into a wide grin. Nonetheless, there was one last day for me to make friendship bracelets. A last day where, unbeknownst to me, I wouldn’t have a need for making them anymore.
Now I can prove my friendship in all types of new ways, like posting my friends on my Instagram, buying matching pajamas, or, in more extreme cases, getting matching tattoos. But back when I was younger, making friendship bracelets was the most extreme thing I did. I would love to revive the tradition of making friendship bracelets as one of the purest ways to reconnect with friends, because everything about them is intentional. You choose specific colors, put them in the order you want, and even add accessories like spelling their names or adding dates.
Coloring books have haunted me from their designated spot in the supermarket checkout aisle. Coloring books with Disney princesses, fluffy bears, and scenic atmospheres. I remember coloring books being among my favorite things when I was younger; they were one of the few items that could truly lift my mood. An unspoken truth about them was the sort of community that came with sharing a coloring book with someone. I have fond memories of tearing pages out of my coloring books to give to my little sister so that we could color together on our childhood bedroom floor. We would argue over which page she could get because it always seemed that no matter what page she chose, I would secretly want that one. We had the huge 96-pack of crayons and would use each one when coloring, often snatching them back and forth to get the ‘best’ color, which would change every minute. I can’t remember the last time I even thought about sharing a coloring book with anyone, let alone my sister. Coloring books are now even virtual, and while I have tried some of those when I was stressed, they won’t ever replace the feeling of coloring on those cheap pages with the people you love. Using every color you could find to fill in some of the most basic images.
I think out of all of the things I’ve missed the most, I miss coloring books the most. I miss the funky colors. I miss the basic pictures. I miss tearing out pages for my sister. I miss having dozens because they’re the one gift that isn’t too expensive. Digital coloring books aren’t cutting it anymore, and to be frank, they probably never will.
What stays with us
When I think back on my younger years, one quote comes to mind. In the 1986 film ‘Stand By Me’, the protagonist ends the book he is writing by saying, “I never had any friends later on like the ones I had when I was twelve. Jesus, does anyone?” I don’t think a truer quote could be true. There will always be something nostalgic about the years of our youth. The friends we’ve had. The music we listened to. The memories we had. The activities we participated in. So, maybe there are things we outgrow. Things we shed as we grow older and become more mature.
Things that no longer fit us as they once did. Of course, I miss things like bracelet-making, diary-writing, and coloring books, but I also recognize that there are times and places for all of them. I get excited when my nieces want to do these activities, and unlike other people, I never tell them to stop or that they’re doing it wrong. Childhood is all about making mistakes, but more importantly, doing things exactly the way you want to.
There is no wrong way to experience one of the most raw times of your life, and I wish I had known that when I was younger. I don’t think that younger me is lost forever either. I think she’s there for moments when I feel the most joy. When I feel the most connected with everyone around me, and when I feel as if I am entirely in the moment. I still giggle and get giddy. I still eat some of my favorite childhood treats. I still find myself drawn to some of my favorite childhood media in moments of immense sadness. Inner children are always there with us, and they probably won’t be leaving anytime soon, no matter how much we try to ignore them. While I may not remember the last day I ever did something, I can look back at these things I’ve outgrown with fondness, and hopefully you can do the same.