Tomorrow is my birthday. I’ll be spending it alone.

I spent the last year unemployed, disconnected, adrift. I indulged many fits of anxiety. I pushed some people away and held others too close. I cried, in private and in public, I fell down, I drank too much. 

And here’s where I try to find the silver lining. Here’s where I counter with: But! Physically, I'm the best I’ve ever been. I’ve run so many miles, many of them faster than ever before. I’ve figured out how to avoid monthly breakouts. I’ve let my hair grow out. I’m coming up on a decade of partnership with my cat, 11 years of being a pescatarian, and am hovering near a financial milestone that younger me would have been amazed by. It would seem like there’s lots to look forward to. And for many people, that would be true.

“Life's funny. You have to find a way to keep going, to keep laughing, even after you realize that none of your dreams will come true. When you realize that, there's still so much of a life to get through.”

― Claire Messud, The Woman Upstairs

But the goals I’ve achieved weren’t the goals I had when I was younger. Yes, I wanted not to be poor, or fat. But I also wanted to find a place in the world, my place, and make a home. And while I have found those places and those homes, I've abandoned them. By wanting more, for less. By demanding the blessings and graces I felt I earned from earlier suffering. By not understanding that karma is not a bank account, and pain is not currency you can save up and spend for later happiness. I’d like to think I understand better now. But chances are, given another chance, I’d feel entitled again: to more, to better. And I’ll find myself here again too, coming full circle yet another time, in a cycle of dysfunction that starts with me alone and ends the same way.

Another year down, a cat’s lifespan to go. I’m so tired.