Every year around this time I get in my head and spin out a bit. (Full Disclosure I wrote this 8/22/2021) Not necessarily in a good or bad way, just a thoughtful way. I think 42 years and 364 days has taught me that being thoughtful and thinking about who I am, who I want to be and what I can do better has made me more accepting in embracing birthdays. The difference is I do them much quieter now. I used to celebrate my birthday like it was my favorite holiday. Now I just want to quietly accept that I have grown and learned so much more and will be a year older. Aging really is an interesting process. Aging with mental illness is an even bigger process. I know 43 is young to many, many people. For me though it seems like the past couple of years has started the process of getting older. From watching more of life’s beauty and tragedy to literally feeling the physical side effects of getting older. For my birthday I do like to be with the people I love most. The people that are my ride or die. The people that know me inside and out and the people that at times, know me better than I know myself.
There has been some change recently in my life with ending an 8-year career with a great company to starting a higher-level job at a new company. It has been a challenging few months. Then to top it off in late June I had a weird PTSD moment. I suppose I had blocked out calling my biological father on his birthday June 29, 2006, and for some reason in 2021, I remembered calling him. I left him a message on his landline answering machine. He never called back. It took me a few days to get back up when I remembered calling him and feeling that need to know who he is and what he is like. Obviously on my birthday it is only natural I think of me being born and the people that were there, my mom and biological father. That is so strange that those 2 people made me and yet I only know my mom and dad. No one can really understand what that is like unless you have been in that situation. Deep within me is this abyss and as I have gotten older it has gotten lighter, but it will always be there. My mom and biological father made the perfect blend of a bi-polar, ADHD kid. All the wonder in the world and I will never know that other part of me. I think I am always striving to be better and do more because I am making up for this part of me that I do not know and that is a constant ache within me.
With my birthday 12 hours away as I write this, I think I am doing okay. I mean on the mental illness side I am taking my meds daily and I am being healthy physically and have been better mentally. Every single day is a day that I get through. I mean all the meds in the morning, throughout the day and at night are exhausting and doing that as I get older is part of that bigger mental illness aging process. What happens when maybe I cannot afford meds and therapy. What happens when maybe I forgot to take meds? What happens as I get older and the people around me either pass away or are just so busy with their lives and maybe I fall and struggle? Getting older is a blessing, I do know this. It is remarkable learning more about the world and other humans and yourself. And now I throw in the but, but it is a very scary reality of mine that I am going to be alone and sick, mentally ill.
I must take a beat here because I was walking my dog and listening to Galileo by Indigo Girls and thinking so many positive thoughts about life, my life, and my birthday that I wanted to come home and write. Why do I automatically go to the negative? Why do I automatically pull myself into this sad space? I suppose that is the mental illness and the daily struggle. This is why I wanted to write this blog so that the real day to day of mental illness is looked at and talked about. Every single day is a struggle. Every. Single. Day. Now I believe that therapy has helped me look at my life and the people around me in a more positive light and that it helps me live a life worth living. But there is not a fucking day that I do not have some kind of inner struggle that I have to work through.
Here I am at 42 and 364 days and I am single and very lonely. I have been hurt so badly for having a mental illness by my ex that I have put so many walls up and have a very hard time letting a man in my life again. I crave intimacy so much. On the other hand, I have a mother and father that I see often and that are so supportive and still here and I am so, so grateful for them. I have sisters that have made a remarkable life for themselves, and their family and they have grown in so many ways that I feel so grateful to have watched their process. I have friends that are my insides, my chosen family. I have a safe home and a 11-pound dog that is my protector and my shadow, and I am so grateful for both. Currently, I have a job and benefits and a great doctor and therapist. I suppose at 43 I am doing okay. I suppose okay is real. I suppose okay is better than some. I suppose okay is okay. Here I come 43, watch out, we have a lot more to do.
I will be sure to write before I turn 45. Oh how there have been so many waves since I was 43. Stay tuned!
Layers 