What 17 Meant to Me

​By Bella

TW: Mentions of suicide and self harm

For some reason, I have always had a big thing about birthdays. I think at some point in our lives we all have, however, this year was more than a birthday.

It was a milestone.

Earlier this year, I attempted. It was not the first time, and I cannot say with certainty that I will not come close to that mindset again - my life has never been straightforward. Even recently, I have lost major parts of my support system because of my struggles with mental health. What I think the most important thing to understand is that yes, a lot of the time, our lives are messy, feel difficult and impossible, but that isn’t all it is. If I try to think about what I would have missed if I had succeeded, THAT is the impossible thing. My birthday was a celebration of my resilience, my vulnerability of seeking help, and of life itself.

And she lived happily ever after…. If only.

From an outside perspective, what happened almost instantly after my birthday could be interpreted as a major setback; a messy and difficult and impossible time. In some ways, it was. I did not go to school, talk to my friends or get out of bed, for 5 days. I was overwhelmed by this one consistent thought in my head, probably triggered by such a celebration of life.  “What if I never succeed, but just live my life wishing that I was dead?” It is harrowing and consuming when your own body is attacking you and wishing you dead, reeling you into practicing bad habits.

But something so miraculous happened - I didn’t relapse into self harm or smoking. Instead, I took the time for myself to work through it; to not only appreciate my life, but to appreciate that it was not easy to live this way. Although I wish it was different, the fact that I managed to make a small step away from my usual destructive behaviour, was the best birthday present to myself.

You know, on my birthday, I always wish that my younger self could see me. I don’t think 5 year old me would be exactly proud - seeing as I am not an astronaut - but it is 13 year old me that counts. I was 13 when I first started self harming. I want that girl to see that we are still alive and still fighting, living a messy, difficult and impossible life, but a good one all the same. 

Make your own milestones. Make them so that the younger version of yourself can be proud of the person that you are becoming. Make it to the next day, the next month, the next year. None of us are perfect, but all of us are surviving.

Have faith in yourself, and receive the love you deserve.