Today was the first day that I felt grateful to be alive. Fucked up, I know. I don't know why it has taken me so long to feel like I dodged a bullet; I have had plenty of good times since my suicide attempt; lots of pints with friends, the best gig of my life (Flaming Lips, OMG!!!), going to the beach, exploring my city, parties, amazing food, amazing company; but for whatever reason, I kind of took it for granted, kind of even resented that I survived.
Thinking about that day, the overdoes day, is pretty hard both physically (I was a little, ahem, drugged out so it's pretty hazy) and emotionally (for fairly obvious reasons). It's hard to fully accept what happened; what led me to the biggest fuck you, but I know I wasn't myself, I know now that I was in an abusive friendship and that helped spur me along. I know I was angry; I know I was in the deepest possible despair.
Shit, I was so frustrated, still am, with my life. My life, that I have always valued and grabbed ahold of the happiness no matter how small, where that for so long wasn't enough. I don't understand what it is that makes me undateable; or what spurred on a friend to treat me like I was lower than dirt, that I had nothing to contribute to the world. I don't know why my dad brought me up to fear him or why I am here, in Toronto, my home, and not a priority to anyone within a thousand mile radius. This shit sucks. I wish I was successful. I wish I had money. I wish there was someone who wasn't related to me who was thinking about me right now.
Waa-fucking-waa. I am healthy. I am intelligent and I am pretty. I am going to school to learn Latin and Greek and how to dig up bones and why Anna Karenina is relevent. I have amazing tits. I have best friends scattered over the globe and places to stay in Edinburgh and Tirana and Copenhagen. I live in a beautiful city where I can get shwarma until four am and where I have seen some of my most favourite bands ever. I not only get along with my family, both extended and immediate, but I really really like (most of) them. There is an adorable dog who loves to stick her tongue in my mouth. I live in a world where Arrested Development exists and Deadwood and Firefly and It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. I live in an age where I, a white woman, can be almost as good as a white man (I wish all woman, all people of colour were as fortunate as I am, but right now I'm trying to be grateful for anything I have -- and I plan on fighting until we are all equal). I am glad I learned to read and that I have access to the greatest books of all time. I am so happy that my biggest physical impediment is being a little overweight, something that is completely within my ability to change. I have friends that love me and whom I love. I have friends that when I text them to come for a beer, they show up. I throw fucking awesome parties and I can blow minds with my cooking. I can make people laugh and I, in turn, can laugh with people.
There is so much to give me hope, to make my life worth living and for whatever reason, it has taken me five months to see that. It doesn't mean that tomorrow I will see rainbows or the next day or the next. Tomorrow something might happen and I might look to my wrists longingly but right now, this moment, while I sit at my local with a delicious, cold pint I want to live.
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