The End of a Nine-Year Cycle: What 9/9 Taught Me About Release, Growth, and Starting Again

This afternoon, I scrolled back to September 9, 2017.

I found a picture of myself at the park with my daughter, who was still a baby at the time. I was a brand-new mom, still trying to understand what motherhood would mean for me.

Nine years don’t sound like a long time when you say it in your head. It feels different when you can actually see those years in pictures. You notice who was around, what you were wearing, and where you were going. You also start to recognize little pieces of a version of yourself that you may have almost forgotten.

What I Had to Release During This Nine-Year Cycle

I lost a friendship I had had since elementary school, and still don’t understand why it ended.

For a long time, I wanted an explanation that would make everything make sense. Eventually, I had to accept that releasing something can also mean moving forward without ever getting the answers you wanted.

I also lost three of my animals during these years: Poker, Midnight, and Kitt. They were there for me during so many moments of my life. Seeing them again makes me sad because I can remember those versions of my life through them, too.

At the same time, I was becoming a mother. So I had to let go of much of my old self to fully experience motherhood.

Then, a little further into that journey, I stopped drinking.

That changed me in ways I am still understanding.

Alcohol had been deeply woven into my identity and the way I socialized. So removing it forced me to figure out who I was without it.

For the first time, I had to sit with parts of myself soberly. Even after all these years, I am still discovering pieces of who I am that were hidden underneath that identity.

Growth Can Look Like Trying, Changing, and Beginning Again

But when I look back, I also see so many beautiful parts of those years. Reading more led me to question more, and I started trying different things to see what felt right for me.

At one point, I went vegetarian and later vegan for a while. Both were part of becoming more intentional about how I cared for myself. That willingness to explore and make changes eventually reached other parts of my life, including my career. Over time, I stepped into a new job and built a life where working from home became my everyday reality.

There was a lot of searching during these years, but there was also a lot of becoming.

When I look at my life in 2026, what stands out most is the peace I have. My mind feels clearer, and I understand myself more deeply. I am more aware of what matters to me and how I want my life to feel.

My Final Lesson in Release

When I think about how this nine-year cycle is ending, one final lesson in release stands out to me. It was losing access to all of my Meta accounts.

Especially my Facebook account.

I have had that account since 2009, which is honestly crazy to think about. That was seventeen years of my life connected to one place.

And today, September 9, marks exactly three months since I lost access to those accounts on June 9.

Looking back at everything I had to let go of over the past nine years, losing those accounts feels like a final closing before this cycle ends.

My Facebook account was deeply personal to me. It held years of conversations, pictures, memories, and connections from different seasons of my life. Some of those relationships reached back long before the life I am living now even existed.

Some of those connections go back years, and there are people I probably wouldn’t even know how to find today.

So losing those accounts felt like losing access to this enormous digital archive of my life.

It reminded me how quickly something you cherish can become part of your past.

And maybe that is what makes this particular 9/9 feel so emotional for me.

Exactly three months after losing my accounts, I am looking back on a nine-year cycle filled with lessons in release.

Some of those releases came from choices I made for myself, while others were losses I never would have chosen. A few took years to understand, and there are still some I am probably learning from now.

What I Gained Along the Way

Looking back on the entire cycle, I can also see how much I gained along the way.

Motherhood gave me my daughter and introduced me to an entirely new version of myself. Sobriety gave me the chance to learn who I am with a clear mind. I started a new career and developed a different relationship with work.

I also explored new ideas and tried different businesses. Those experiences helped me understand the life I actually want to create.

When I look at that September 9, 2017 picture, I feel so much at once. Part of me feels sad for what she was about to lose. She had no idea what was coming.

At the same time, I feel proud of the choices she would make. Those choices would change her life in ways she could not yet see.

More than anything, I am thankful for the growth from who she was then to who I am now.

What I Want From the Next Nine Years

One day, I will look back on September 9, 2026, just as I am looking back on 2017 today. That thought feels almost overwhelming. Now I understand just how much life can change in nine years.

My grandmother is here with me today.

She is 87 and will turn 88 in November. When I started thinking about where we could all be nine years from now, my mind immediately went to her.

Of course, I hope my grandma is still here with me then.

I would love to look back on this day nine years from now and know she is still here with us. Thinking about her age, though, made me feel the weight of time in a completely different way.

Because she is here today.

Today, I get to see her, hear her voice, sit with her, take pictures, and laugh with her. I get to experience this version of her and our life together right now.

Thinking about where she was nine years ago reminds me that these cycles are happening for all of us. Her life has changed so much too. During that same time, I became a mother, changed careers, got sober, built businesses, lost things, and found myself. She was living through nine years of change too.

So today, I do not just want to document myself.

Today, I want to take pictures of her and my family so I can remember this version of our lives. This reflection has made me realize how easily ordinary moments can become some of the ones we treasure most.

Nine years from now, I may look at a picture from today and remember exactly how this season felt. I may remember what my grandmother was doing, what my daughter looked like, what we talked about, and what made us laugh.

That is the thing about looking at the past. The ordinary moments become so much more meaningful once enough time has passed.

So today, I took pictures of me and my daughter again.

I want to capture the woman standing at the end of this cycle so I can find her again someday.

Nine years from now, I want to remember what I was thinking about, dreaming about, and creating. I also want to remember how excited I felt about the life ahead of me.