Year 28. Much like last year, coming into my 28th year looks a lot different than I thought it would.
Year 27 was…..brutal. It was probably one of the worst years to date. And trust me, I’ve had a lot of bad years. Like many years throughout my life, the beginning of last year started with me going through a trauma that I never thought I’d recover from. To be honest, I still don’t know if I can recover from the ongoing brutality that it’s become.
But just like last year, I’m still here, and I’m still fighting.
I didn’t think year 28 would start with me being 25 weeks pregnant with my 4th child. And of those, the 3 that I parent having a life threatening genetic disorder. I didn’t think I’d be facing my own mortality, and that of my kids, when I was only 28.
That being said, I also never thought I’d actually make it to be 28.
Every year I get older, I am genuinely shocked that I made it, and that I didn’t kill myself. And this year is no different.
I’ve spent the past 25 weeks pregnant, but the other 27 weeks of the year were just…well, to say I barely made it is an understatement.
I spent the past year trying to recover and process getting raped and sexually assaulted by a close (non blood related) family member. I spent half of the year drinking extremely heavily, and the other half trying to achieve sobriety. Which I did. And that’s something to be proud of.
I spent the year in therapy. Navigating the tumultuous relationship that that sometimes is, trying to work on myself and heal all of these massive, bloody wounds. Both past and present.
I spent the year working on my marriage, and my relationship with my children. Something I imagine I’ll spend every year doing, but worth it just the same.
27 was a hard year for me, and as always, I’m surprised I made it to 28.
27 had A LOT of alcohol. And A LOT of self harm, which I’m not proud of. It had wounds and blood and battles and pain and anxiety and depression and hopelessness…but it also had some good. It brought me this baby, and it brought me sobriety…even if that’s just temporary. Although I hope it isn’t.
It brought me love and it taught me acceptance of myself, of who I am. And of my crazy, messed up life.
27 brought me new friends, and better relationships with old friends.
Shit, it brought me blogging, and the community I’ve gained through that, which is one of the things I’m most appreciative for.
27 was hard, and I don’t know where we go next with 28. I’ll spend at least a few more of these next coming weeks pregnant, which means I’ll spend them sober. I hope I spend more than the minimum amount of time there, but for now, I’ll acknowledge and appreciate the strength I have now to be sober. I know it’s not for me, and I know I’ll not always have it.
I hope 28 brings me strength. The strength to face the world and all of the pain that it has while staying sober. I hope it brings me peace with my past…and with my present.
I hope it brings me the courage to work through my hardest challenges…my darkest demons. And I hope it brings me the fucking endurance to deal with it all.
I don’t know what the next year has in store for me. With a new baby soon, I can guarantee it will bring many sleepless nights. It will bring a big fat mess of poop and spit up and blood…and it will bring some of my happiest memories I’ve yet to create.
Writing that sentence made me smile out loud. Year 28 will bring me some of my happiest moments I’ve yet to create.
I hope that that’s true. It feels like it could be. There will be a lot of stress, a lot of noise, and a lot of pain…but I think there can be some room for good.
Some room for happiness, maybe. Or at least, some room for hope.
All of those things sound good.
All of those things seem worth sticking around and fighting for. I’m strong enough to do this…even if so often it feels like I’m not.
I don’t know what the fuck I’ll have to say a year from now, at the end of my 28th year….but I hope I stick around long enough to find out.
So…with that…I guess that’s it. Goodbye to all of the pain of my 27th year.
I’m ready for something new.