I didn’t really speak much of it last year but I received my mental diagnosis a few weeks before my birthday. I was extremely underweight and was almost (!!) institutionalized for borderline anorexia. It felt… a bit disassociating, to sit across the room from my therapist, wondering what went from me understanding a lot of things about contentment and happiness in life to seeking therapy and practically living my days on medications. I didn’t know how I got to that place… yet again.
There were many things I wanted my day to be, but it can only be so much. And even though I didn’t have any plans or I only wanted to crumble to pieces, it makes a lot of difference when you are kinder to yourself.
I’m not sure if anyone really tells anyone this but let me shout it out there: it makes a lot of difference when you are kinder to yourself.
Here I am, a year older.
I’ve crossed more things on my bucket list. I’ve adopted Waffles in our home. I’m starting to adjust to my medications, learning to be better at relationships and friendships. I’ve started to get in touch with magic, too. I’ve met incredibly beautiful souls and became friends with them. I’m still trying. Always trying. But at least, sometimes, living feels a lot less like draining.
I received a lot of kindness and patience that day, from heartfelt long letters, midnight Facetime calls, to a stranger who decided to give me flowers because she found out it was my birthday.
I’m grateful to be surrounded by ones who make you feel that the struggle is worth it. That life, with all its messes and ups and downs and endless spirals – is worth it.
Here’s to another year of being alive.
I made it, you guys.