Well I officially made it.
10 years of living. 28 years of life.
Happy Birthday to me.
But it actually doesn’t feel like my birthday. It’s June 5, the day I was born and it doesn’t feel like my birthday, but it feels like something is different. Something in me that I haven’t felt before.
And I can’t figure out what this feeling is…but it’s something that feels significant.
My feelings are emotional, but sometimes it feels so emotional that I feel it physically.
There is a small sense of hope in this different feeling that I have not felt in a long time, especially on my birthday.
Hope. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt…hope.
Many times I hope things can happen. I hope that something good can happen. I hope that I can meet someone right for me. I hope that one day that I can have that life that I’ve been dreaming of.
For once I can use hope in a different way. It’s not just a picture in my mind of things that I desire, but may not happen.
I am hopeful. I am hopeful of what is going to happen in my life. No matter what happens.
It’s weird. Because this is different, but it’s good.
I don’t have this long list of bullet points of what I want to accomplish in Year 28. I don’t have a definite plan for this year.
I don’t have this timeline of what I need to be and what I should do in this age.
I am not upset over the lack of birthday greetings and shout outs that I received. And I don’t care that I’m not doing something extravagant on this day.
I don’t care.
This sentence has been in my head all day.
I don’t care. And it’s not caring for others and being kind. But in a sense that I don’t care of outside perspectives of me. I don’t care that I’m not in that place in time of where I’m supposed to be.
I don’t care if I don’t think of others feelings first. I’ve done this for 28 years. And it ends at the beginning of 28 years. Because I put others feelings first and in the end, I always get hurt.
And most importantly, I don’t care if anyone knows about my depression and anxiety. This is a part of me. For about 15 years now.
I don’t care how others see mental illness and put me in this particular category of stereotypes and stigmas.
I struggle. Everyone with mental illness struggles everyday. And I don’t want to hide this. I want everyone to understand this struggle.
Here’s to Year 28.
(aka happy birthday to me).