It's three years on since the day I went out to die. I don't think all of me came back from that journey. Maybe that's a good thing. I look at myself sometimes and wonder where the person I used to be before that day went to. If she's still there inside? Did I lose her forever when I decided to kill her so violently? Does it even matter if I'm different now? Is there a person who we are meant to be? Or do we get to decide that anew every day but just sometimes end up being the same person because it's all we know? For a time I forgot everything I was and everything I knew, and for a long time after I abandoned everything I thought I was or knew. I don't even know now who I am or who I'm meant to be pretty much most of the time. Perhaps that's a good thing too. It gives me room to deal with each day as it comes and to be whatever I need to be.
All I know now is that I have started over in my life more times than I can count and though I got to that point where I thought I just couldn't keep on doing it, I think I have proved that it's still possible for me. Somehow I got back behind that line I crossed that way back day. It's just a matter of knowing there are always more than a few choices and if you can't see them all yourself you have to pause for a while and maybe ask someone else to help you. You never feel the same forever. If you hold on long enough things always change. Sometimes you have to hold on a long time and the small milestones can matter a lot. And when it comes to this day every year, it doesn't matter who I am or what I am, just that I am. Being alive is enough.