Happy Birthday to me. I am 39 today.

Things are hard right now. Eventually, they will get better. Or, at least, the pain will subside a bit.

I remain adrift in a sea of love, and that is worth more to me than I can put into words. The people in my life meet me where I am, in the same way that I try to meet them where they are. Sometimes it is difficult, but sometimes it turns into the most beautiful thing in the whole world.

In the last six weeks, I have been in some of the darkest moments of my entire life. Grief and mourning and sadness, rolled into a little ball begging for relief. Cold to the world, irrationally jealous, isolated, alone. Feeling like there is nothing in me that anyone else would want or understand. So small and such a disaster.

I have also had some of the most beautiful moments of my life. Moments filled with intense love and compassion and intimacy. Support and understanding. Moments with people who know me so well, who have known me so well, that they knew what I needed when I didn't even know where to start. Moments with people who see me, all of me, and I can feel that they see me.

How did I deserve all of this? What did I do?

I was just me. A whole me, messes and all.

How is that possible? I don't understand how the fuck that is possible.

But here I am. And here is all of this. I'm living it. I'm here.

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