Oh 29. 

I wish I could share Taylor Swift’s enthusiasm for turning another year older, although sadly, 22 is now a distant memory.

So here we are, 29. Twenty-freakin-nine.

How did that happen?!

It feels like yesterday I was dressing up as Mr Incredible and drinking Snake Bite at uni.

Time is a funny thing, isn’t it?

I can remember the good times but not in explicit detail.

I’ll look back at the photos and remember bits – I remember pulling that outfit together or taking the photo…but they somehow merge into one big memory.

Yet, happenings from when I was 6 stick to me like glue & it’s hard to shake it off (got Taylor Swift stuck in my head now, damn it).

They say (not sure who exactly but, they) that “time is a healer” (or some bullshit like that).

From someone diagnosed with PTSD, I’d argue that time doesn’t heal at all. In fact, time makes it worse.

For years I’ve struggled with my childhood but as time went on, so did the pain & struggle.

I’ll tell you what has helped me, mind.

The NHS.

Our National Health Service.

Through them, I’ve been able to understand my triggers, to understand my brain and to accept that yes, bad things happened but, they don’t define me.

During my assessment a few weeks ago I was told that I was very “resilient” which is a great thing to hear.

I’ve previously been given the “oh I’m sorry for you” look – you know, the one where people tilt their head to one side.

During the assessment, there was no pity. She was blunt which is how I like things done.

She told me, as if I was really stupid for not realising, that it’s been a long time keeping things in.

Of course I’m going to feel sad and down.

After a while, your brain (and body) and can only take so much.

So, today…I’m not going to dwell on the what happened when I was 6 or 11 or 16…I’m going to try (key word there) and enjoy turning 29.

It’s my last year in the twenties after all.

Here’s to being 22 + 7.

Doesn’t have much of a ring to it that, does it?

Soz, Taylor.

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