At the age of 16 I made a deal with myself. When I turned 28 I would kill myself. I wrote down all the details in my journal. And then my Mom found my journal and decided she had the right to read it. I actually don't know if she read that entry, but my space was invaded and for the next 6 weeks I lugged my journals out to our burn barrel and watched them burn. That one moment stopped me from writing from ages 16 until Kevin and I started dating at 19. I started writing at age 8, a journal entry everyday, straight through until 16. That's 8 years, 2920 days, thousands and thousands of words. Rereading my journal entries from our early dating years is an experience that maybe one day I'll share. What you see in the first two years of those books is a lot of desperation, pleading, crying out, and rage. You also see me slowing falling in love. Falling in love first with Kevin and then with myself. My love for Kevin is amazing and wonderful. But what's even more fascinating to me is the personal growth and the desire I found to live again.
Today is my 29th Birthday.
That means I did not kill myself on or near the time of my 28th birthday. The deal that I made at 16 has weighed heavily on my mind these last few months. I have a great desire to live and explore and I am saddened by what my childhood experiences lead me to write that day. But I am even sadder by the fact that children are committing suicide more and more frequently.
My birthday is also the last day of the year. It's a time where everyone makes new years resolutions and great plans for new beginnings. But it is also a time of great sadness and depression. Winter is evil, people are cruel, religion destroys. So wherever you are in this life journey, when you ask someone how they are, ask for the truth, be truly checking in.
I'm a lifestyle blogger, covering deep subjects including body images, battles with food, and overcoming how I was raised. I try to be as authentic as possible and I don’t sugar coat how I see things.