Today is the last day I'll be 33-years old.
Good fucking riddance.
An acquaintance had told me 33 was such an amazing year, because 33 sounds like "30 free." She had went on about how it was a great year for her and I should be so excited to be turning 33.
Towards my 33rd birthday, I was trying to heal from all the trauma and turmoil that took place when I was 32, so I was wishing that 33 would give me a break. Nah.
Shortly after I turned 33, I received my official ADHD diagnosis. It was tremendously validating to finally have an explanation for so many things that I was doing or traits I had (which had been troubling me forever), but that opened a can of worms. Once I finally had confirmation I was an ADHDer, I started suspecting I was autistic – among others. Having to deal with a late ADHD diagnosis is beyond challenging: you re-examine your whole life, and mourn for the years you lost not being able to be your authentic self – due to having to mask and the lack of accommodations towards your neurodivergence; you feel anger and frustration that no-one had noticed: parents, teachers, friends, professors, partners, therapists, psychiatrists, doctors... Why didn't anyone notice? Why did I have to suffer all alone? Then, you feel empathy and sorrow for 'you' that was exploited as a vulnerable person. Add discovering that you probably have coexisting neurodiversities to the equation and it's more than most of us can handle on a good day.
Amidst all that, I stopped taking my antidepressants (SSRIs), after four and a half years. It was something I had been wanting to do for a very long time, but the confirmation I was neurodivergent solidified that need and want. I knew that my depression and anxiety being treated as stand-alone conditions would do fuck-all long-term. I had to focus on living my live authentically, as a neurodivergent person; I had to focus on other things beyond the depression and anxiety. That isn't to say that antidepressants didn't help the first couple of years of taking them. They did. They were the reason I overcame my agoraphobia, and why my panic disorder lay dormant for years. It is worth-mentioning that I always combined taking medication with going to therapy. I still go to therapy to this day. Therapy is really important and beneficial to me, and it has helped me exist in times when it was impossible for me to cope. I believe that medication alone wouldn't have benefitted me as much. Anyhow, after consulting my doctor, I quit antidepressants. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done. No exaggeration. I went into a six-week depressive episode. I think, overall, it probably took me about two months to start feeling like myself again, from the moment I completely stopped taking them. But even then, I needed more time to recover. Even now, I'm not sure I've fully recovered, and it's been months.
But of course, all that wasn't enough. My physical health had to suffer, too. From extremely nasty chest infections (which left my lungs with long-term issues), to an eye injury, to catching the corona virus (omicron, thankfully), to a UTI, to having two surgeries (both of which have been mentally traumatising and the second of which changed my body forever) and complications with the healing of the second one, this has easily been the year when my health has been the most challenged. And I'm still not recovered. I'm still waiting to see how I will heal, and if I will be alright. Which is horrible for anyone, but especially for neurodivergents – who can't deal with ambiguity – it's soul crushing.
And then, comes the personal stuff. Human relationships are hard. They can be painful. Dealing with rejection sensitivity dysphoria (look it up, it's something a lot of neurodivergents suffer from) whilst going through a depressive episode added another layer of pain and hopelessness. Then, a few incidents where my consent was violated took place really close to each other, and that was extremely difficult to deal with. Those, due to my CPTSD brought some very dark memories to surface. That has been a common theme this year: me being triggered and horrific memories poking through. Not peeking, poking.
"Some friends are only part of the journey" (tiktok user klane88). When I saw that phrase, I teared up. It is so very true. I have lost a lot of people over the years. I say loss, because that's how I experience it. I go through different stages until I reach acceptance. I get hurt, angry, sad, and then, I move on. This year, again, I lost a few people. Some, I had started losing from years before; some, I lost suddenly, once I realised they were not there for me, when my health was deteriorating. It hurt. Deeply. I support the ones I love, passionately, radically. I don't expect the same level of support, but I would hope for interest and empathy. When I don't get these, things can never go back to how they were before.
I am also thinking of all the (di)stress and agony I went through, due to this being the second year of my second masters degree: the sleepless nights, the all-nighters, how I managed to submit my dissertation whilst healing from the first surgery... The fact that I signed up for a short course now that I'm healing from the second surgery (whilst I'm still waiting for my dissertation grade)... But, you and I had enough of this. I'm exhausted typing all this negativity. I'm drained feeling it, and seeing it on screen isn't helping.
So, here we are. What I just did is called "anaskopisi" ("ανασκόπηση" /"review"/"retrospection"), of my 33rd year on this planet.
Did I leave a couple of positive things out? Sure.
Am I feeling negative as fuck at the moment? Sure, I'm going through a depressive episode, after all.
Do I think tomorrow is going to be one of the worst birthdays I've ever had? Absolutely.
I'm not going to be able to celebrate due to health complications, despite buying plane tickets months prior, for the sole purpose of being able to celebrate my birthday - and handing my dissertation - with my friends in my home country.
If I could make a birthday wish this year, it would be to make it to 35 a lot healthier – and maybe a bit happier – than what I am today.
x
