The last year of my life has undoubtedly been the most normal that I have ever experienced. I can't even describe how much I've craved this normality, from an early age (I presume, if i could remember an early age). Without waffling too much about the past, as it is now firmly in the past, this last year has seen me gainfully employed, experiencing the wonder of uninterrupted lucidity, has seen me establish a regular eating routine and, most crucially of all, has seen me live on my own.

When I say "live on my own", I allude not only to physical living arrangements, but emotional and mental independence also. I've learned to look back without staring. To lay my past, though undeniably turbulent, to rest. To swap self-loathing for self-understanding. To let things be what they'll be. To accept them as they were and are.

Had you known me, had anyone actually known me a year and a half ago, the situation would have looked quite different. I say this not with pride, but with gratitude. Last year I got well, in spite of myself. I do creep back in, mind you, from time to time. I stare too long at the settled dust behind me and I feel unworthy and a surge of shame. I can sometimes only see what I've done wrong in a day, and not the little things that I've perhaps done correctly. Things I've done with passion or love or reason or kindness tend to fade to exit, the trembling finger of blame and fear and guilt coming into focus. For these days I am grateful, because when faced with the ugly reflection of self and the overwhelming power of irrational thought, those are the days when I learn. When these days are done, the tools of kindness and love are sharpened, the drive is renewed.

I can easily forget what has been, too.

I can easily forget the relentless din of voices and songs that no one else could hear, the remorseful echo of furnitureless houses and the inability to live with, and live without, something so simple, corrupted. And corrupting. I can easily forget that nothing else mattered, the stab of loneliness and the fear of waking up. And the fear of not waking up. The fear of waking up unable to see, and unable to tell anyone. Because they'd know, and then I'd know and there would be no denying myself.

I have rambled too much, now, and thus I must embrace normality and do some work :)