This inexplicable understanding of what adulting really means void of the true depths it actually represents.
To be grown is to be cultivated, developed, matured.
To be grown is the hallmark of every adolescent wish list who never knew what they asked for.
And every adolescent is greeted by adulthood with the same vengeance that a new York street walker finds in the wind of the streets in January.
Our desires turned out to be nightmares, only shallow representations of everything the world truly required of us.
We thought grown simply meant on our own, in an absence of our parental units able to finally experience the reality of alone.
But we awoke to see the mirror of our own arrested development and the very places we’ve ceased to grow because the pain it caused has paralyzed us.
We see the hidden memories that we stored away over the years because the only way we learned to survive was to keep going, not realizing that within the fight of life, being able to take a hit never equated to that hit being pain free.
We see the culmination of the loudest voices in our lives and hope like hell, at least one of them looked at us and had something beautiful to say. Because if not one did, the bruises of our experiences and the residue they’ve left on us will be so visible that we’d just rather not see ourselves.
To be grown is to know what it means to lay naked with yourself and explore every inch of what you present yourself. Because until we know what we offer ourselves, we can’t begin to imagine what we could offer to anyone else for any other purpose. But as we find it, we can share it. But not until we love what we see, what we are.
To be grown is to accept the onus of responsibility and accountability that our present choices are no longer the fault of anyone else. It is to take full control for the creation of our future and the process by which we will arrive there. It requires moving in honesty, forethought and precision. It’s owning our own shit on a deeper level.
To be grown is to love deeply. It is to love the pain of our wounds as much as we love our scars because with no wounds there are no scars and with no scars there’s no growth. Because our pain makes us pure but our healing makes us whole.
So that we can be grown.