With the anniversary of my dad’s passing coming up, a lot of the familiar emotions are resurfacing. Now that it’s been eight years, I feel ready to reflect again and remember what life looked like in the aftermath.
I lost my dad on November 11th, 2018, when I was 13 years old, due to liver failure brought on by severe alcoholism. I can acknowledge that he wasn’t the best father, and the abuse that took place is something that stays with me. But what marked me even deeper was the immediate shock of that day and the strange reality that followed. My whole world flipped in an instant. I don’t even remember the days between his passing and the funeral, my brain has completely blocked that period out.
To make matters harder, the school environment I was in at the time was toxic. A lot of kids treated my dad’s passing like a joke, and the bullying was relentless for six months until lockdown shifted everything online. Between the weight of grief and the toll on my mental health, I eventually dropped out in Year 10, later completing Year 11 and 12 through TAFE. Looking back, the years between 12 and 18 feel like a blur, almost like watching a completely different person. I went through the wringer falling out with friends, struggling through family and relationship tensions, working, dealing with mental health issues, and trying to figure out who I was amidst the chaos.
Going through something that heavy so early makes you resilient, but it also leaves you with a deep need to protect and nurture the child inside you who never got a fair chance to just be. Nowadays, reparenting that younger version of myself is something I do deliberately. I built a blog specifically to curate the whimsical childhood details and adult things I genuinely love. I surround myself with bright, alive colors in my living space, creating a world that feels light and joyful.And I spend quality time with my animals, who have always been my biggest source of pure, unshakeable peace.
Over the years, I’ve often felt like the black sheep in my family, frequently being the butt of the joke or having my achievements downplayed. It still stings when I’m proud of something I’ve accomplished only to be met with silence or indifference. But branching out on my own and living with my partner has given me the room to live authentically without needing validation from people who can't offer it.
My mental health today looks very different from how it did back then. The anger I used to hold has softened into a mild annoyance that I can step away from and communicate through. I’ve learned to distance myself from people who avoid open communication or prefer to sweep problems under the rug. My sadness has changed, too. As a teenager, every setback felt like the end of the world. Now, I understand that life moves in seasons, and bad moments pass just as surely as good ones return.
If I could reach back to anyone currently sitting in that 13 to 18 age bracket drowning in grief, a toxic environment, or a world that feels far too heavy, this is what I wish someone had told me: Life will shift, continuously and without permission, just as the seasons turn. Nothing stays frozen forever. Learning to bend, adapt, and bloom alongside those changes isn't giving up, it’s how you anchor your roots while the storm passes through.
This past year alone brought a whole new set of shifts, my mum moved two and a half hours away, meaning I rarely get to see my brother anymore as he lives with his partner as well and is older than me, my partner and I took on full responsibility for our dogs; I abruptly took on the real world pressure of paying rent and I had to leave a job that wasn't the right fit. Adapting to this new reality building independence and managing adult responsibilities is an ongoing process.
Because I don't drink, traditional adult social gatherings often aren't comfortable spaces for me, which can easily feel isolating. I’ve had to redefine what connection looks like on my own terms. For me, a "safe" outing isn't sitting at a bar or clubbing ( which I did try haha, people need to DANCE) it’s spending a quiet day at the beach, going for a hike out in nature, grabbing a good meal, or just doing simple, wholesome girl things together where the pressure is off.
Right now, I find myself in one of those low periods. It’s a strange state of mind being fully aware that I’m not okay, yet struggling to fully process it. Life has felt repetitive lately. Even with drawing, painting, reading, writing, gardening, and tweaking my home space, it feels like a delicate mix of forcing myself to perform self care rituals to spark good feelings and using them as quiet distractions while I wait for the season to turn.
I know this feeling isn't permanent. The routine will shift, new light will find its way in, and things will ease up eventually. I'm just holding space for myself until it does.
I’d love to hear from you: How do you actively honor, comfort, or make space for your younger self as you grow into adulthood?
Till next time, princesskaysi <3
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