Project Paper Birds

Return of the Nose Piercing

This was originally posted to the Paper Birds Instagram on July 2nd:

I got my nose pierced today. I went by myself, which felt like a win (was putting it off because I was nervous). While I waited, the girl next to me struck up a conversation. She asked if I attended the local college and I shook my head with a smile before revealing I graduated two years ago. She was an incoming freshman, and here—alone—to get her first tattoo (I did the same thing at 19, but that’s a story for another day). We talked and I tried to slip in whatever comforting wisdom I could without overstepping. “Life has a way of working out” and “It’s ok if you don’t find your people right away.” 

Growing up, I heard adults talk about the twinkle in young eyes before life beat it out of them. I’ve vowed to NOT be such an adult, but for the first time today I understood: I saw myself in her demeanor and realized just how much life I’d lived in the past 6 years. I think of myself in three parts: Pre-PTSD, Height of PTSD (2020/2021), and Post-PTSD. You couldn’t pay me to be 18 again, but there was a sort of colorful naivety that was a core part of who I was, that I no longer hold, at least not in it’s original form. I like to reflect on the past a lot (you’ve probably noticed). Even more so, I like mourning who I was. It started out more maladaptive than it is now, and I have a poem I’ll include at the end to prove it. But now it feels quite warm: It feels good to cry about what was lost. It’s grounding, comforting, connective. Grief is just the final form of love. I hold my younger self—specifically who I was during and immediately leading up to remembering my trauma—like a daughter now, and she’s finally seen.

Almost forgot how this was going to end: Today for the first time in I don’t know how long, I felt that colorful naivety.