Tomorrow is my birthday. I won’t tell you how old I’m going to be, but you can know this. My current age is a prime number. Meaning, the age I will be tomorrow isn’t. I remember last year on this exact day I looked forward to a very different life… I believed it was a good sign: prime age in a prime year in a prime month… It turns out I was wrong. Or maybe not. A friend told me once that in life you rarely get what you want but always what you need, and maybe…
Let’s make the account. Last year I was in love, utterly and happily in love with Physics and completely unaware of the apparently destructive influence this obsession had on my (mental) health. I was “in the flow”; creative, inspired, passionate… And believe me when I tell you I was damn good at what I did. Top of the class. I had dreams and ideas of the future, my family loved and supported me and I believed I had it all sorted out.
This year. I’m a psychosis, a partner, some diagnoses and a whole lot of life experience richer than last year. My family detests me to the point that my father refuses to speak to me or even address me as a person. I’m studying something I think is really interesting, but… dead. I can’t feel it like I felt Physics… but that’s probably healthier for me anyway. I have found a real person who -even though I don’t trust him- claims to love me… and perhaps I’m slowly learning to lean on someone else but myself. Being in psychiatry has taught me many things, but the most important is probably that life is short, too short for regrets. Too short to be someone you don’t want to be. Too short to be afraid.
So am I better off like this? I wouldn’t know. The primes of last year have certainly brought me excitement, and improbability has never stopped to light the path for me. It’s not easy, my life definitely was much easier before. But I think, despite all the stress and strife and schizoid troubles, that it’s worth it. And in the end that’s all what matters.