i kept writing
maybe i don’t need to write this blog because 38 isn’t some all important milestone birthday. maybe i don’t give a fuck. last year was the start of something for me. it still took some time but it started. i willingly celebrated my birthday with almost zero guilt for having existed in the first place let alone 37 years.
sure, i have generally been a happy person and liked to have fun. truthfully though, i spent most of my life not really living. shrouded in guilt and regrets and dwelling on every mistake. sometimes i thought my biggest failure was not being capable of ending my own life. i almost succeeded in 1994. March 14th to be exact. i have worn that date on my soul like a badge of true failure for 20 years.
sometime in the last year i was able to let if fall off like a lost hat. i don’t know when it happened i just know at some point i became aware of it. i was happy. it was real, not just a brief moment of bliss like seeing my baby girl for the first time. i wasn’t faking anything anymore. i am just happy. is my life perfect and without struggle, worry or sadness? far from it. i am just happy to exist in every moment now. i still have a long way to go, sometimes i fall and maybe that will never end and that is okay because i am happy. i don’t want to be dead and gone and free from this life anymore. probably because this life is a dream i never let myself dream. i can’t count my blessings anymore because it would take too long and i have life to be living.
it is far from perfect. i still make mistakes. i still worry that my friends don’t want to be around me but it helps that i know for sure at least a couple of them really do, they just happen to live far away and very far away. i still miss the random invites to shows or just coffee. i miss people just stopping by because they were “in the neighborhood” or whatever. sometimes i think i should stop trying so hard to be actively social with people. i worry i am a nuisance and always forcing people to make excuses to avoid me. i won’t stop though because i’m not that kind of friend. i want to see people and talk and be a part of the lives i care about. i want people to know that i think and worry about them even if i know when i check on them they won’t need anything from me. it is true though, if someone really wants to be part of your life, they will try to be. so that is why i worry that people don’t want me around. i will keep reaching out anyway.
i worry about my daughter a lot. i try not to blame myself for the troubles she has. she doesn’t blame me so why should i? i have been there for her the very best that i can whenever life just fucking knocks her down for no reason. i love her strength even though she won’t allow herself to truly relax just yet. the fact that she is afraid to hope for good things because she has so often been let down in the worst way makes me so sad and worried for her. things are looking up for her but i still worry oh so much. i never want her to feel the way i did all those years ago before she came into my life, the deep, deep melancholy that makes living seem just too much to bear. i know she feels this at times and fights it and i hope she keeps being able to fight it because losing her is the only thing that truly terrifies me. much like seeing her happy is the best feeling in the world for me. nothing makes me happy to be alive as much as her smile. especially when i know that it is true and real.
those are my worries and fears. the rest is a blessing that i try my best to appreciate as much as possible.
my crazy is a struggle and my battle with my appearance is a struggle but those things have always been there and always will be and i just have to learn to truly accept some things and keep working at the walls i build around me. i can’t get rid of what i hide so it must be hidden to protect the ones i love.
so if my life is a sentence in the story i am writing then the sentence almost ended on March 14, 1994 but instead of a period on that day, there is a semi colon. i kept writing. some chapters are missing, so to speak, and some pages are dog eared from dwelling too long on bad memories but i kept writing.
i’m looking forward to my birthday. i intend to enjoy it with the zeal and lust for life that has been lacking completely every birthday before this one. yes, i am going to revel in being the center of attention like a fucking princess or some shit. i will shamelessly sing karaoke and dance my ass off at my totally awesome 80’s themed birthday party. i will make sure there are photos of me having the best fucking time ever. yep.
’cause i kept writing and will keep writing.