25

A week ago I turned 25. To most, this may not seem like a big deal. For the girl who tried everything in her power to not get to 23, this is a massive thing.

I wrote this on Tumblr on my birthday:

"2 years ago, I went to the safari park with some amazing friends. We went for dinner in the evening. I’d been discharged from hospital 24hours before. I believed I should never ever turn 23.

1 year ago, I worked the morning of my birthday. I remember being told that I’d come down from the high eventually. I was excited but I still didn’t believe I had a real place in the world. Someone told me I looked healthier in a photo from the year before. I wanted to be back in that place. I was preparing to relapse on my month long holiday.

Today, I worked this morning and everyone who knew me wished me happy birthday. My colleagues bought me a card and a cake. I’m homeless. I’m technically unemployed. I’m spending this afternoon chilling in the garden by myself. I’m 8 months overdose free. I’m 4 months self harm free. I’ve already eaten 2 slices of cake today. I’m the happiest I have been for over 10 years."

And it's completely true. I am the happiest I have been since my life started falling apart many, many summers ago. I've had moments of happiness, but nothing as complete as this current period. Yes, I've had bad days, but I've reached out, asked for help, or simply just talked to someone. I'm not perfect, I still let the bad thoughts win some days and end up spending my day curled up feeling pathetic but that's still coping without self-destruction. On tough days I'm scheduling nice things for myself too. I can be flexible though, and I'm no longer afraid to say no if things are too difficult or I can't do it with love. 

I've learnt to say sorry (more on that next week) I've learnt to love friends, I've learnt to make my own decisions, I've learnt to accept love. 

Things have been really up in the air. I moved in to a new place last week and my landlady went away until yesterday. I was terrified she was going to come back and evict me, that this was all a cruel joke, that I didn't deserve good things. But that hasn't happened. She's returned and we're getting on just fine. Everything is going ok. I feel at home. Most importantly I feel safe. I did have a wobbly few days but things are better again. I need to trust God and believe things really are ok. I'm free as long as I trust God. The second I doubt, that freedom vanishes and I find myself falling back in to the safety of chains I have worked so hard to break. 

"He fills my life with good things" Psalm 103:5