Content note: implication of deaths within the community.
The horrors persist but so do I…?
I’m a(n over)thinker by design and I get particularly reflective around things like birthdays, anniversaries and Christmases.
In a move that I hope doesn’t make me appear annoyingly upbeat, last week on my birthday, I just felt really grateful as my life ticks over into another year.
I know so many good people. And they like me. I am their friend. How nice is that! We communicate largely in emojis and yet we get that those little symbols mean “I’m thinking of you. I think you’re doing great. Im sorry this is so tough. I’m cheering you on.”
How wonderful it is to get a day where you’re reminded that people are glad to know you.
And I think back to the me who has wept on her birthday before and want to gently tell her that it’s going to be okay. Different. Hard. Unfair. But definitely okay, with lovely chunks of joy in there despite the complete lack of good health.
This year has been about remembering who the eff I am. Illness and society’s view of people with illness and disability will affect your sense of self and your sense of worth. I’m slowly unlearning a lot of stuff. And some of it will never go away but I have to be okay with that.
As a member of a community of people for whom birthdays are tricky, and frankly not guaranteed, I am incredibly fortunate to have felt happiness on my birthday this year. And I hope to savour that and allow it to help me through my year ahead.
'M.E. myself and I' by Anna Redshaw 