surviving April

He heard, "I just don't feel like being alive right now," under the pulsing music and bouncing laughter of his boyfriend's surprise birthday party. The smiles reflected off the red, white, and blue lights. The bar-basement vibes exuded fun, happiness even. But I didn't.

I went because if I didn't, I likely wouldn't be anywhere now.

Saying those words startled my friend. They led to alternating side hugs (as we sat on bar stools) and "I love you, you know that right?" sputters.

"yes, and i love you, too," I replied each time, without capitalization. He asked me to not feel that way (like not wanting to be alive), and I stammered, "I can't just choose that!" What a world it would be if I could.

Only 97 hours have passed since then.

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A month ago I started April first by calling my therapy office. I found out soon after that she was dead. The spiral started before then.

Three days prior I endured a sexual assault that I've yet to cope with, unless blocking the rapist on all social media--plus LinkedIn since he found me there as well--counts. Read: it does not. Two days prior, my therapist died when I felt like death. I stayed awake for 39 hours. I barely ate or drank. I felt less than human--and she left her human life behind. I didn't know.

I didn't know that taking a spontaneous trip to Las Vegas that week would not only help me deal with the raw emotions eating at my soul but also push me toward change. I thought I was running away, as I do when life challenges me beyond a breaking point. Perhaps that was my intent (it was).

Instead, I started to run toward something for the first time in the latest forever.

Unsure of whether it happened on the flights out, during my stay, or amidst my travel home, but somewhere in the sky or on the road or in between, I realized that I need to create a life from which I don't want to run. Upon my return, I expressed concerns and requirements for my employment to keep me--not just to keep me happy, but to keep me around. I shared plans with my roommate and a few others to leave sooner than originally planned. I decided to pursue my writing more seriously. I chose to accept my new therapist. I now call her by name instead of New Girl. I worked toward improving my physical health, and I will continue to do so.

I changed the trajectory of my life because I decided that I didn't deserve to feel how I did. I chose to no longer allow it.

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In the next month, I expect to face adversity--financially, physically, mentally, and otherwise. I expect to feel defeated, to swallow pride, and to choke on tears. It's the first day, and I already completed all three. Alas, I also expect to continue to show up for myself. I expect to speak up, fit out, and live intensely.

The speed of personal growth took my breath away, but I'm catching it now.

I just have to hold on.