The thing I am most grateful for in life
is life itself
my life. this life. me.
this may seem obvious, mundane, oversimplified
but not for me
I have anxiety,
depression,
complex PTSD,
and BPD
I always sort of shrugged at the anxiety;
worry is my natural state
and it always has been
it’s all I’ve ever known
but the depression, the PTSD, the BPD-
those came with time and unfortunate circumstances
the way they blend together and feed off of each other;
the fight is three against one and seems unfair

The little me in the photographs
she stares back at me so innocently
so timid and scared, so wholesome
she has no idea about all of the trauma that’s coming her way
she is going to face abuse and neglect
everyday for the next couple of decades
and this will shape her forever
I am grateful for this version of myself
because she got me through the hardest time of my life
I talk about her in the third person
because I never felt connected to past versions of myself
but especially the littlest version
I had to cope with too much back then;
I repressed so much of it
now I can’t remember huge chunks of my life
but they were too painful to experience the first time around
without having to carry the burden of memory, too

I neglected myself for most of my life,
never stopping to ask what I wanted or needed,
only concerned with pleasing others so I could survive
my default setting was a blank slate
ready to be molded into whatever the other person expected from me
this was conditioned in me
I was groomed to be the perfect victim
for anyone who wanted to control someone else;
a plague that would follow me well into my adult years
ignoring myself became so normal that I forgot who I am,
or maybe I never knew at all,
I was never given the space to find out
(hence the BPD)

I looked death in the eyes that summer
depression dared me to
BPD agreed
PTSD instigated
and I gave in
they convinced me that my life is worthless
and that I am a burden
how are they so good at that?
the overdose felt like a slow death
eventually I passed out
I don’t know how long I was unconscious for
definitely hours, maybe days
when I woke up and realized I was still alive
I was fucking pissed
I was immediately prepared to try again
I can’t really explain exactly what changed, or when, or why
recovery was a slow, excruciating process that I didn’t want to participate in
I guess I learned how to participate anyways
little by little, one step at a time
and the pain started to feel a little less intense, a little less often
so to be able to say today that I am grateful for this life
it is an accomplishment,
one that only came after a long and gruesome recovery process

I am grateful for the version of myself
that packed up all of my things
and moved out of my toxic environment
not once, not twice, but three times
in order to save myself
I am grateful for the version of me
that went to therapy for six years;
the version that took the time
to stare at all of my trauma,
find its roots,
and pour love into them
the way I always deserved
I unlearned a lifetime of self hatred
and as a 23 year old woman
I began to learn how to take care of myself
and maybe even grow to love myself

It has been a long, tiresome journey to this place of gratitude
I could never see a future for myself before
but now I’m starting to
so this is what I mean when I say I am grateful for my life
and I am grateful for myself
I’m grateful for all the different versions of me
that had to exist in order to carry me through
a lifetime of trauma and neglect
I got myself through everything
the world had to throw at me
without ever letting it take away my softness
or my hope for the possibility of something better
the fact that I am alive today is a privilege
and that is what I am most grateful for
I am grateful to simply be alive and to be me