I wrote my last blog post exactly a year ago - when I turned thirty one. It's been a year since then and today is my birthday (again). Thirty two years old! Unbelievable. At least for me it is.
Struggling with mental health and su*cide, death is always lingering - it's very near to me. So every birthday is basically a checkpoint - to remind me or make me realize that... Hey, I made it through another year alive. I did not die (not yet, at least). Yes, I realized that might be a little bleak for other people, but for me it's actually an achievement worthy to celebrate. Do you know how hard it is not to succumb to your su*cidal thoughts? I deserve to appreciate myself for making it alive every year.
I'm genuinely glad I failed my attempt and I didn't die on my 30th year, for real. Because my 31st year was... AMAZING.
Despite the rough start of 2022, my 31st year was great. The healing and trauma processing may not be so fun, but I realized I HAD to make myself go through that. And it was because I chose to sit myself and process all that, that I was able to enjoy my 31st year to the fullest.
It was such a great year that there were multiple times I had to stop and give myself time to process things. My 29th and 30th year was such a shitty mess, it was hard to believe, even for myself, that I get to experience so much goodness on my 31st. I cried so many happy tears last year. Every single time I realized that I am no longer at the place I was at the year before and that I did a full 180 with my life... my heart felt so full that I had to make space by crying it out.
It's currently 2 am right now, so I haven't celebrated anything to start my 32nd year... But I'm praying and hoping that this year will be even, much more, better than last year.
