Filed under things that caught me by surprise: turning 31. As I was growing up I was certain that I would have committed suicide by the time I was 30. That’s been a contributing factor to me not pursuing dreams, to hesitating before submitting writing to this that or the other pbulication. And yet here I am. I’ve not only seen 30, but now I’ve seen 31. You wouldn’t think this so overwhelming as it is, but here I am questioning why and how.
In addition to the act of looking at myself and saying, “No, you can’t be sober alone. You can’t heal on your own,” I’m also trying to figure out who I am, what I am, what I’m doing, who I’m doing it for. I never thought I was going to be alive past the age of 30. I could have sworn that I would have killed myself before I even approached that time. And now I’m 31. I’m still alive. I don’t drink. The most self-harming thing I do is attack the brick walls I’m passing when they look at me wrong.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m often grateful for this situation, but it’s still overwhelming. I’m counting on many of you to help me get through today and the immediate future (as I’ve already explained, anything beyond that pushes me towards a panic attack). But I’m so glad for my Hippo, my Clan Ginger, Precious and all my friends and family who, inexplicably, help me stand when I don’t think I can stand on my own.