It feels as though there is much in my heart that I want to disclose. Yet, my words feel heavy in my mouth and the sentences I am trying to piece together seems to choke in my throat.
It's just another day, but today I turn 36. Today I mark the anniversary of my birth the same way I have always observed it - quietly, privately, and with a sense of pride which borders on amazement that I am still alive. It's difficult not to be aware of such milestones when you fight daily for survival and for your own life. In fact, sometimes all you do is mark the time, and one more year is another badge of honour to be collected and revered.
Granted, suicide is slowly receding into the backwaters of my mind these days. But there is no doubt it can and will arise like a sudden storm and sweep me away within a fraction of a moment if circumstances brewed the right kind of weather. And it would take only one cloud to bring about the kind of storm and rain I am talking about.
I was watching Michael J. Fox on TV the other day and what he said really stuck with me - he said "I don't choose to have this (Parkinson's), but everything else I have a choice about". It's the same with mental illness. I don't choose to have BPD - it's an ugly monster when it rears its head. But everything else, I have a choice. And whether I choose life or death, that is my choice too. Ultimately, I believe that it's going to be about how much pain and mental anguish I am willing to tolerate before I draw my white line in the sand.
But there have been moments in the past when I thought I'd drawn my line, at least once when the world dimmed and I honestly thought I could not bear to live another day but did.
So who knows how far I am willing to go?