Last year’s birthday was pretty much the lowest point of mental illness for me, and for the year since then I’ve been just trying as much as I could to try to dig away from that point. Trying everything, throwing everything at the wall, putting in effort and confronting my unhappiness even though I felt so constantly exhausted and terrified and in pain. I didn’t really believe there was anything I could do to change that black pit, but like somebody already lost in the desert, I kept going anyway.
And just a year later, I’m lucky to get to have such a nice birthday with a clear mind and heart. I’ve never thrown a party before, and now I have. Working on mental health seems hopeless and impossible, especially if you feel constantly worthless and embarrassed, but I’m so grateful I kept looking for a solution even after so many years. I’m very lucky that some of the things I threw at the wall stuck, because that’s not the case for everyone. but I’m mostly grateful to myself from months ago, who felt so terrible but crawled out of the mud anyway, because she really could have stayed there a few more years. And I’m thankful for everybody who’s helped me… or were happy for me. It’s really meant a great deal to me.