I feel like girlhood has been getting talked about a lot more recently. It’s something I hadn’t truly thought of in a long time. Going straight from high school to college didn’t leave a ton of room for reminiscing on the past and when it did, it was focused on healing rather than remembering.
However, I haven’t been able to not think about girlhood recently. Especially in the sense of losing it. It disappears quickly and the realization that it doesn’t last forever is overwhelming at times. I didn’t get to say goodbye to the little girl I once was. I opened my eyes one day and suddenly I wasn’t the little girl making mud pies in the woods behind my house, or the girl that counted down the days for the 3D Hannah Montana concert on Disney. Rather, I was a young adult, staring at my phone and refreshing Instagram.
It’s strange how quickly it leaves. You don’t get to thank or say goodbye to the little girl you once were. There isn’t someone telling you “This is the last day you’ll ever experience the magic of being a girl.” It slowly slips away like sand in an hourglass, leaving you no longer living it.
Girlhood, in its own way, doesn’t feel temporary. You don’t expect for the sleepover to end, the inside jokes to dissipate, and the carelessness slipping away. I assume it’s similar to boyhood: riding around town on your bicycle, playing with worms and mud, and causing havoc.
Back then, every emotion felt enormous, but the expectation to have perspective wasn’t there yet. You weren’t required to apologize for having a large emotion or expected to have it all figured out.
There isn’t anyway to replace girlhood, especially not overnight. Adulthood slowly takes up more and more space as responsibilities appear: rent, bills, jobs, appointments.
As a girl, you’re not expected to know what you were doing and you weren’t expected to not be a bit of a mess. But when I entered college and ultimately became an adult, I was expected to know, even if I had no idea and I was expected to be put together.
Mistakes feel heavy, failure feels permanent and emotions start needing a justification.
As a young girl, I could cry because everything felt overwhelming and I’d get told that things are “okay.” I could feel angry and be given the grace to be angry.
Now, I need an explanation for my emotions. Even though I am met with grace, sometimes I feel like it’s not okay which falls back into the mistakes feeling heavy.
The older I get, the more I realize what I actually miss. It’s not being younger, or middle school, and it most definitely isn’t the awkward emo phase.
It’s the permission to be unapologetically emotional, unsure, and loving.
I miss when I could change my mind and it not feel like an intense and overwhelming change. I miss when I couldn’t care less about how people think of me and did what I pleased. I miss when I could love people easily without the worry that someone may not love me the same way or that I come off too strongly.
At the core of little Becca, she loved deeply, cared sincerely, and was openly opinionated.
To be clear, I don’t want to go back. I love the life I’m creating. Girlhood, most certainly mine, wasn’t perfect. There were awkward years, painful friendships, insecurities and plenty of moments I’d never choose to relive. But there was also grace.
You were allowed to grow. You were expected to make mistakes because that’s what growing up looked like, but somewhere along the way, it started feeling like I had to have all the right answers. I had to have it all figured out.
I know there’s a certain grief that comes along with realizing that you lived through something beautiful without realizing it. It’s not heartbreaking grief, it just creeps up on you. An old song starts playing, or you see pictures of your friend group, or maybe it’s finding an old yearbook.
In that moment, the memories flood back to what it was like to simply exist before adulthood crept in.
And then the feeling passes.
You don’t lose girlhood all at once. It leaves in tiny pieces. Some stay with you forever and others quietly become memories. Growing up isn’t about trying to be her again, it’s about carrying the best parts of her with you.
That little girl isn’t gone, she’s just a great chapter that taught you how to become the woman you’re still learning to be.
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