i’m thirty-five

I shared an abbreviated version of this post on my Instagram last Friday, March 1. I want to mention I’m definitely doing better than I was (I don’t feel like like crying all the time! Yay!) Thank you also to all the kind humans who shared their own feelings, experiences and support. It really helped. Thank you.


When I was in the third grade, I was hit by a bicycle. It messed up my front teeth, split my lip, and I don’t know, other things?—Some bruising probably? I know there were stitches. When my mom woke me up for school the next morning, she said something along the lines of, ‘if you aren’t feeling good, or you are nervous or scared, sometimes, it helps to dress up in something you love that makes you feel good.’

So! I wore awesome stirrup stretch pants that were black with all these overlapping stars, and a bright pink top with three large matching stars on it, outlined with sequins–to me, this was the epitome of fantastic third-grade 90s fashion. (Still pretty sure I was right.)

I think it helped? I don’t remember much of the day after that.

I bought this dress for $8 at a thrift store over a year ago. It’s super cute. I’ve never worn it until today.

I’m 35 today. 

I’ve been having a pretty rough bout of depression the last couple of weeks–not because I’m turning 35. I’m just in that standard debilitating feelings of everything being awful and broken. It’s been making it hard to concentrate, killing my appetite and motivation, and at times, making even normal task, like lifting a coffee cup feel insurmountable. The excessive snow and cold feel oppressive. I’ve received more art rejection notices, while trying to find to energy to keep applying to things. I’m not taking care of myself very well, so I go back and forth in my mind between hating my body, and appreciating it. I feel a lot of angst, as if there is supposed to be this next step in my life? I keep working towards it, but I still seem to be in the same place.

I don’t know how to ask for help. Because I assume everyone knows everything feels awful. The best we can do most days is ignore it. I hate the burden I become to myself, and don’t want to spread this sadness to the people I love. All I’m doing then is robbing them of peace and sanity, that they have somehow managed to find for themselves in these rough times.

And they can’t fix it.

I was also dreading my birthday because I know I will have to interact with people. Not a lot of people, but some. I will have to put on that face that pretends I’m fine, and use the little energy I have to keep up appearances, because I love those people. Love is weird like that.


Waking up this morning, for some reason, my mom’s advice came to mind. So, I don’t feel cute, but I put my cute dress on. I don’t feel like taking care of myself but I still fixed my hair and shaved my legs. I don’t want to get out of bed, but I’m still heading to work. So, I’m still here, and I’m still trying.
I’m beginning my 35th year of life. Today, I feel sad and broken. I feel hopeless and on the verge of tears all the time. But I know, it will pass. Eventually my motivation will come back. Eventually, I will feel like my delightful self again. Because that’s just the cycle of my life.

So, here’s to being 35, hopefully we stop the world from burning down around us.

2 Replies to “i’m thirty-five”

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