I can I know

Another Year Older, Another Year Wiser (?)

Four days ago, I turned 34 years old.

Historically, February has been a hard month for me. The distressing panic of the day of my birth looming ever closer. The day I become another year older. Some years I’d end up hospitalized. A handful of overnight psychiatric holds, ER stays, and on occasion, the ICU.

(I say this not to be dramatic. I say it and I wonder if perhaps I should not. I say this because it is important to me to recognize the intense difference between past and present. And mostly, I hope my words find the places they belong. I hope that they help and do not hurt.)

The other day, Google Photos’ memory feature was kind enough to remind me of one of these times. A photo of me in a hospital gown and bed, broken blue glasses sitting crooked on my face, a purple bruise on the side of one eye. My face, a greyish color, my eyes, filled with regret. Regret at what I’d done, or that it hadn’t worked, I am not sure. The year was 2016. I was about to turn 25.

What is my point? That, is a very good question.

It’s not that I need the reminders in order not to forget. But the reminders are hard proof that I haven’t made this shit up. I guess that is something. I see a photo of myself wearing the blue Cookie Monster hoodie I loved so much, and I know I don’t have it anymore because paramedics once cut me out of it. I see my first ever inpatient admission wristband in my drawer at my parents’ house, I read my name and the date and I know I was there. I find a card a friend gave me when I was 19 or 20, during visiting hours, I read it, and I know she was there too.

I’ve never wanted to get older, and the older I got, the more I panicked about it. The decade between 20 and 30 were some of the most visibly difficult years of my life.

Four years ago, just days after turning 30, I made my final attempt.

A part of me died that day, but another part was born the next. I still haven’t quite wrapped my mind around it all. All the things that have happened. All the painful pieces of the story that led me to where I am today. Maybe that’s why I need the reminders. Maybe that’s why my mind goes icy quiet for a moment and I can’t understand. Maybe I haven’t yet processed the fact that everything happened in the ways that it did. That I am here, now, today. But not by accident. My default position has never been life. I’ve had to choose that, hard.

Where I am now today, has everything to do with every place I’ve ever been at in the past. Where I am at 34 is entirely dependent on where I was at 30, 25, 20, and every day before and in between. That’s why it matters. That’s why my hospitalizations matter. Every amazing and terrible thing that’s happened to me, every brilliant and stupid choice I’ve ever made, has gotten me here.

And once again, I ask myself, what is my point?

I don’t really know yet, but I want to share anyway. And maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll figure it out as I go. As I say random things and write random words and make random connections. Sometimes the thread of a topic carries through from beginning to middle to end. Sometimes, it does not. Sometimes you think you know where you’re going with something, and then suddenly, out of nowhere, it changes. Sometimes, you have absolutely no idea where you’re going, and suddenly, out of nowhere, that changes too. Basically, things change. They always can. Do not let that stop you.

I’ve always had a vision of my life as dark and bleak, full of failure and ending in premature death. That’s changed. My vision still includes the darkness, but it’s outshined by the light about 83% of the time. It’s full of dark AND light, success AND failure, sadness AND joy, challenges that are challenging, hardships that are hard, and a ridiculous amount of hope and gratitude. And, it’s definitely still going to end in death.

Historically, February has been a hard month for me. This year, less so. Less dark. Less death wish, more life. I have hopes and dreams and goals, people I love, people who love me, and places I want to be. I have things to do. I will die one day and in all honesty the thought still gives me comfort. I am ok with that. But I am no longer on the path to finding that day, I trust that it will find me when it’s ready. Meanwhile, I’ve got a lot to do.

Four days ago, I turned 34 years old.

Happy Birthday to me.

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