23

I suppose I should probably start with a bit of follow-up on my birthday.

I wish I had something positive or poignant to say, reflecting on times gone by or what the future may hold.
But I don't.

The day itself was a bust. It was a blur of tears and medication. I had two full days of meds, plus four days of PRNs I'd managed to save. I kept nodding off, had crazy restless legs, and couldn't focus enough to hit the right keys on my phone. It was a mess. I was a mess. I woke up the next day with a blank memory except for dinner (Japanese and the better part of a bottle of red).

I hate birthdays more and more with each year that passes. Talking with my brother about the joys of getting older, I realised that what I feel is beyond the "it's just another day, no big deal, with I could just skip it" mentality. My birthday actively depresses me. I could come up with a million reasons why, but the most obvious is that it's a day to celebrate another year of life, and I've never seen that as something to celebrate.

Talking to the dietician, she asked if I'd had any good birthdays in the past, but I haven't really. Last year we went down the coast, went out for dinner, but I still ended up locked in the hotel bathroom self-harming all night. My 19th, I went out drinking for the first time, and ended up freaking out and running home in bare feet. The only good birthday I can remember was my 13th, when I'd just gotten out of hospital from The Big OD and was celebrating survival and life. Ten years later, I can't say I'm celebrating it.


The dietician has been my biggest support, even more so of late, since mum started stepping back. This morning I asked if she could help me book an appointment to see my GP next week, since mum won't anymore. When mum stopped coming to reception with me, I stopped going. The girls bring in the EFTPOS machine and I pay in the office. I don't know what it is - I know all the staff and get on well with them. I think it's the waiting room and the amount of people and just feeling 'out there'. Today when the dietician went to get the receptionist, she asked when I was thinking of seeing my GP. When she came back, she had a card with an appointment time good to go.


Later this week, mum's going away for three nights. I'm probably looking forward to it more than her. Over the past few years, things have really changed. It's no longer scary. I want to be alone. It does also help that my brother is now single, so I won't actually be home alone which helps with a lot of the fears.

It wasn't for my birthday, but mum's falls one week after mine, and so I made her a carrot cake. It's not my neatest job - the frosting was left out of the fridge for too long so it's a bit sloppy.

xxBella