Okay, it’s not really my birthday, in the sense that it does not mark the day of my actual birth.
What the 26th of April 2018 marks is the two year anniversary of my last suicide attempt.
The day my life could have ended.
Is this an odd thing to celebrate?
I am still not in a great place, I still struggle everyday, more than I am able to convey in mere words.
But I am alive.
I do often still wake up disappointed to be here but I no longer yearn for death. It may not sound like it’s a huge difference, but they are miles apart!
I’ve spent some time thinking through the last 2 years off my life and inspecting the many small steps I have taken to get from there to here. I found myself marvelling how ‘in the moment’ I couldn’t see what my actions were achieving though in retrospect those small actions ended up making the biggest impacts on my life.
And it does give me hope for the future.
Even if I can’t see what deed I have done today in order to improve my quality of life, perhaps when looking back it’ll jump out at me in the most obvious way.
From our position on the path, we can’t see how far we’ve come, it’s only when we’ve reached the destination we can see the entire journey and how many steps we’ve taken.
(does anyone else get a Gandalf fibe from that?)