portrait of daphne groeneveld on canvas; quote by marya hornbacher
I wouldn’t put a number on myself, especially my age. But i just turned 23, and that means i’ve outlived the monster we call depression for 3 years. I suppose it’s a good thing, no? Well i can’t seem to decide myself, so i’ll leave that up to everyone else.
The days leading up to my birthday, which was also the period since my last post, have been nothing short of a wild ride wrought with emotions. I went from up to down, calm and collected to angry and frustrated, nice to nasty, scared shit to feeling i can conquer the world, feeling the love to pure hatred, happy like a bird to sinking sadness. I went from ‘yes i can do this‘ to ‘no i can’t i give up‘. It came to a point where i just let everything sink in and let myself feel them, instead of fighting them. But of course, sometimes it’s really much easier to give in.
I won’t lie. It has been fucking hard staying out in the wild, and it’s sad because wild is where life really is. That means that i have a lot more work to be done. I am essentially a work in progress. Always.
Here i am in my entirety, with scars and wounds, joints wrought with pain, and a spirit that is secretly tenacious. I am alive, and that is all that’s important, right?
So here we go, to many more birthdays and years ahead.
Happy Birthday Steph