It has been one year.
I don’t remember much. I remember smiling. I remember hurting; a lot.
I stand here still, surrounded by friends I truly feel grateful for; blossoming relationships.
I pushed myself past boundaries I thought remained stationary, on my own watch, not yours. I have spoken in front of hundreds, four times in eight months. I used to hide from exposure, anything that made me vulnerable.
I sit here studying psychology at my living room table only now appreciating the beauty of my growth. To find something you love is rare. I volunteer for a suicide awareness charity, am a student representative of the psychology department, having work experience at a happiness research company, independently conducting research into mental health disorders and wellbeing. Aren’t I truly lucky?
I used to say that hitting rock bottom was like falling to the bottom of a lake, you don’t resurface until you push hard against the bottom and most importantly you want to get better. I hit the bottom of the lake but I got showered with heavy rocks too.
One year ago I smashed like glass. I’m not healed but I’m rising stronger than you’ve ever seen me.
This time next year, I won’t remember last year. Only this one.