Right in the middle of my conversation on the group chat with my friends (about dim sum and dressing up as it, no less) does it struck me that life has been good to me. More than a year ago, I was in a major funk. Everyday was heavier and darker than the one before and finding myself unable to cut out of the darkness I found myself swallowed in, I turned the blade to myself. (For awhile, I couldn’t wear sleeveless blouses.) I found a way to turn every comment towards me into one that would (and should) hurt me, because I felt I didn’t deserve any better. I thought about dying every day; hating myself even more for not being able to tip myself over; out of the window, off the ledge. I couldn’t see beyond the pain I was in, the pain I put myself in. I felt like I couldn’t live through the pain. I didn’t want to live through the pain. Tomorrow was something I couldn’t face, something I didn’t think I would come to see.
But look at how far I’ve come. I’ve made friends. I’ve forged a new dream. I don’t crumple into a ball after a bad day, I don’t slice my skin hoping it will distract me from the dull ache in my chest, I don’t cry in the shower anymore.
I never thought I’ll see the beauty in life again, I never thought I’ll feel giddy with joy as I laugh breathlessly with my friends, I never thought I’ll feel my spirit soar with every wonderful book I finish and every song I sing just right.
I belong again. To this world and everything it has to offer me.
I am alright again.
And so as I plan my dim sum dinner with my friends for next Wednesday (I’m going as a Xiu Mai!), I feel just right. I’m going to be okay.
I love you. I’m glad I exist.