16 years, 1 month, 27 days

That’s how long it’s been since I created this blog. That’s a long fucking time. It’s nearly exactly half my life ago. Since then, I’ve learned so much. I’ve been hurt. I’ve been bored. I’ve been angry. I’ve been overjoyed. I’ve been hopeless – kind of. Throughout it all, I never stopped believing that my happy ending was somewhere in my future. To me, it was never “belief” – it was knowledge. I guess that’s what you’d call “faith”.

Since then, I’ve been diagnosed with a veritable bouquet of mental health thingies: ASD, OCD, PTSD, a mood disorder – a couple more and I get a free sundae. I’ve been to hell, and I’ve crawled out of that pit by my fingernails. I’ve crawled out of that pit and I’ve climbed up higher than I’ve ever been. I’ve also eaten a lot of cheeseburgers. It’s hilariously ironic that the all-time high water mark of my mental health is coinciding with the all-time low point of my physical health. January 1 is coming. New Year’s resolutions have nothing to do with it. What makes it effective for me is a robust delineation between “before” and “after”.

When I was younger, I’d cringe at old memories. I’d try to make myself feel better by saying “if it’s been longer than 2 years, you don’t have to feel guilty”. What I’ve just recently learned is that having to say that to yourself at 15 is a sign of larger problems than that time you made an ass of yourself.