And this birthday didn’t seemed different. In addition to the family issues, I was dealing with the pain and the meds of a kidney stone that refuses to get out yet, I had my grandpa at the hospital because the inevitable symptoms of several horrible cancers that are dragging him away, and my grandma has a memory that resides more in the 1980’s than in today. In addition to that I had my own demons crawling to my ears, reminding me of all the psychological pain that I’ve went through this year and questioning me how could I deserve a birthday celebration when the year I was ending has way too much suicidal thoughts and events, tears and times of thinking about giving up.
For that same reason, my psychiatrist and psychologist told me I deserved to celebrate life, because I had made a hell of an effort to be here. It made sense, but it somehow didn’t felt right. Still, I entered to the day with my heart opened.
And it was truly a very nice day. It’s funny because everyone who’s seen the pictures of yesterday have told me I haven’t looked that happy since forever. For the hours I was awake yesterday I decided to enjoy in a non judgemental way every event. Of course, there are things that still just. I’m still adjusting to the whole child of separated parents thing, but yesterday it implied that I had twice as much of cake than before, and had breakfast two times in order to be with both of them. My brother had invited a bunch of my friends for a lunch, and my God. I haven’t realized I was so loved. I wasn’t aware that so many people wanted to celebrate my life. I felt lucky, and filled with so much love in ways I can’t seem to put in words.
I was marveled of how I didn’t had to hide or fake. In the last year I decided to come out of the mental illness closet and to become a mental health awareness advocate and writer. So people were in touch with the real me, asked me about how I truly felt, about how I’ve been, and about those things that are painful, such as my grandparent’s condition or my freaking kidney stone. They got me the things that they really know are part of my happy things list, such as flowers, tea, colorful clothing, tons of chocolates and cakes, and a couple of notebooks so I could write in them “My first book”.
I was with my 3 year old godson who told me that “our house felt too crowded for him and he wanted people gone” and I couldn’t help but feel lucky for him to feel my house as his own. I kept telling myself “God, I’m so lucky to be alive for today. Thank you for keeping me here even when I wanted a way out.”.
When I saw my grandma and we were singing the “happy birthday”, she could understood that it was me who was turning 23 that year, and sang to me. And even though I couldn’t spend it with my grandfather, he was alive for that day and told me he loved me. That was enough as since the past months my biggest fear was for them not to be here for my birthday.
I received a lot of congratulations, most of them which included messages of admiration for being brave enough to tell my story, people telling me they were glad I didn’t have up, and those who were as happy for me having one more year as if I lived their own stories. People really cheered up for me, for my story And encourage me to keep writing it.
And of course, it isn’t the fairytale that I wished as a kid. But it was good, it was great and I dare to say yesterday I was happy for almost all the day, which haven’t happened in so long. There I understood that it does get better, and that it’s worth sticking around to see how it gets better. Because even if today I woke up with my arthritis and fibromyalgia all flared up, and as fatigued as it gets, it was so worth it. And I don’t care, now, to wait as many days needed to feel as happy and as loved as yesterday. To be able to feel that way, showing your true self, it’s priceless. Therefore I can say I had the best birthday I’ve had in years. Because it was imperfectly perfect, and I was alive to live it."
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