08/06/25

Once, I was so terribly lonely that I decided to make friends with grief and sorrow. I had been scared of these underwater feelings, the kinds that take you down to the depths of the ocean, the kinds that block you from seeing the way forward.

            I had to learn how to live with the heavy atmosphere weighing on my back, and the way leatherback turtles dove in and out of my life, from where I was five thousand feet deep back to the sun and the shore.

            I assumed this tidbit of my life, where I was knocked down three times, would be the worst of it. I’m almost scared to admit the depression I lived with saved me. I saw life as a precious thing, a season, and a shared experience.

            Where I once was afraid to wear the wrong shoes with my outfit, I have now become someone afraid of not taking risks and missing out on a wide range of experiences to reflect on.

            Out of all the people I said goodbye to as they left this life and moved on to the next, I learned that life is full of emotions, but these feelings can never break you—instead, they break your heart open. Love comes after heartbreak. 

            I have been so afraid to embrace the next chapter of my life, to grow older, and to fade into the background like a maple leaf in November. I assumed too much. Stories at this stage in life are discovered, not invented. I can’t predict where anything is heading; all I can do is stay present enough to understand the direction it’s taking, to smile, and to scream when I hear my favorite song, “Hide My Gun,” by Post Malone on the radio. To play frisbee with my white dog until my arms tire. To make the most complicated, authentic Mexican Caldo, just so I can taste the soup of my memories.

            I spent time crying over what could have been, constantly comparing myself to others. I wasn’t given a catapult—a way to propel myself and my life into a better, more organized career. I didn’t get all the time and experiences I wish I could share with those I lost too soon. But I have the breath of life in my lungs and so much potential to make the best of what is here now, along with the opportunities opening to me.

            I have the chance to be a risk taker again, something I reveled in as a child.

            Every year until I turned ten, I woke up determined to accomplish impossible things. I fearlessly rode horses twice my size, I always picked fights, and I never forgot to show those I loved how much I loved them, with pranks, grand gestures, and jokes to keep us laughing for hours.

            I chased after every stage just so I could sing again.

            I have relished my time in solitude, rediscovering art, spirituality, and the natural world. I learned how to dance with fireballs (poi balls) and raise roosters.

I have never been defined, so I will honor my true nature and not let age define me either. I can have a rich second chance at life in my middle years and still enjoy it immensely.

            Plus, I am so much more equipped with all the life experiences I’ve gained; challenges won’t know what to do with me.

May clarity find you in the quiet places,

Nicole Asbjorn