the other side of 25
I've reached the forgotten birthday. The day I wake up and realise it's my birthday thanks only to the cheerful messages on my phone. Between a thoughtful new fob watch and re-filling my water bottle, a friend (10 years my senior) kindly let me know they get increasingly forgettable. I might agree, in some ways.
Forgettable holds connotations of worthlessness, or being unremarkable. But this morning it was gratitude which distracted me from my birthday. A sunny blue sky beaming on white sheets, tangled in duvets and arms. Yesterday was split between lectures, the library, and pouring over a textbook on the beach before dipping in the sea - all to the soundtrack of birdsong and a light breeze.
Friends pepper everyday, sometimes densely packed in every minute with shared placements, meals, and bedrooms. At other times they accent an isolated day with a brief message or fortuitous overlapping moments on the cycle path. Family lives play out far away, until we meet for dinner and a walk, or a big house tidy (sorry for missing the most recent one!), then fall into chats about what we've been up to, upcoming plans, opinions and feelings, and comfortable silence. All this plays out on a background of changing seasons and days; Mondays to Sundays, summers to winters. Another year passes with so many details to be grateful for that I worry my brain can't cradle all the memories I hope to cram inside it - in part to pass exams, a little to sustain some joy.
Previous birthdays came so obviously. With anxiety, or excitement, and an expectation of partying. But that's fading. My worries about ageing are morphing into anticipation. Anticipation of new skills and knowledge, to help people more meaningfully - ultimately contribute to communities that can weather the chaos we see in the news. Instead of excitement being confined to one day, it bubbles up freuently. Potential careers, the beauty of Gower, impromptu bike rides, unexpected flowers. Big and small, there's so many everyday joys which distract from a birthday.
Despite this, tears threatened my eyelashes today. One thing which hasn't changed is my tendency to reflect, especially on birthdays. 10 years ago, I was turning 16, still suffering from Anorexia and unable to see a future beyond the age of 18. My reflective nature then made me ruminate on all my flaws, every reason to starve, and the worthlessness of my life. This meant tears on the bus to school, while friends chimed happy birthday. My mind, blinded by mental illness, found it overwhelming; the attention, the uncontrollable ageing, disgust at my body and aversion to food. Everything was tided up with body image, self worth, and overwhelming negativity.
Now, instead, I find love and joy overwhelming. I can feel my mood dip into sadness, and get distracted by grief and anxiety, but soon return to a mean of jollity. Looking back, it's easy to see where my life could have come to a close. But I'm so grateful that it didn't. It feels like I've reached a point where the intensity of mental illness has been balanced with mental wellness. Hopefully I can keep sharing that wellness with those around me, both professionally and personally. With more potlucks, picnics, and attempts to change policy! Being able to eat and drink, play and think, is unimaginably better than being trapped in a mind which can't see beyond an obsession with thinness.
I hope that every birthday which follows becomes more forgettable amongst our remarkable daily lives of eating, ageing and loving.
