Skip to main content

9 Months.

Nine months. That's a long time. It's how long you have to wait, from the time a baby is conceived, until they are born. People die and live in nine months.
Nine months is a rebirth.
Today is my nine month mark. Not for a baby, nor for graduation, a birthday, or another common celebration.
Nine months ago today, I was stressed, I was pressured, I was sad and depressed. Nine months ago, I cut myself. This is not a celebration of my self harm, but the opposite! I have not hurt myself in nine months, and have not even had urges in almost that long.
I have changed and improved so much in the last nine months. I have become a different person. I found who I am, who I want to be, I've found my real friends and grown closer to them than ever. I started this blog, I continued writing, I proceeded with therapy. I learned some guitar, some French, and a little more Spanish. I read books and wrote stories, I escaped the maze I'd been roaming for years.

Nine months may not seem like such a long time. but they have changed my life drastically. Even though at times they seem to have passed achingly slowly, overall they zoomed by. Ask me how I was, or who I was, nine months ago, and I will not have an answer. The only thing I know is that I was not who I am today.
I am proud of the person I am today. I have come so far, done so much.

This is the lesson I choose to take from this. Nine months is enough time for a fetus to become a human. For worlds to die and come alive. Nine months can change your life, for better or worse. Learn to make the most of it.

Change will happen either way, but you have the option to choose how.

Popular posts from this blog

TOP

 Miscarriage. Abortion. Non-viable fetus. Such complicated names, when they all mean the same thing. Loss. Disappointment. Fear.  We knew for weeks, before the procedure actually took place. And I suppose that made it slightly more bearable. More...manageable? It wasn't easy. Was it hard? I've gone through harder things. Other people seemed to struggle more than I did. Am I broken? I think I'm okay. As much as I try to convince others, I really think I am okay. I'll survive, I'll get through this, I have no doubt about it. If I made it through all my past shit, I can make it through this, easy. I'm grateful for my support system. Which was stronger and wider than I previously thought. Grateful that I didn't have to go through it alone, that L was there with me the whole time.  We'll get through this. I know we will. And when we finally have our own family, we'll remember this fetus, Eddie, and be okay.

"The Maze"

I've been blogging on and off for a few years. Even before then, I was writing. Whether it was stories in my notebook or scribbles on scraps of paper, I didn't care. I've found things that I've written from over ten years ago! I'm 18, and online, I'll go by Bex. Some people might know me, or recognize me or my story, but that's okay. I don't mind people knowing who I am, but I don't want to publicize my identity either. I've recently decided to start blogging again, and this time, I'm going to share it. I want to help people. I want to guide others who are in my situation, let them know that they're not alone. I've been through hell and back, and I believe I can use my experience in a way that will benefit myself and others. Where do I start? Let's start with the name of this blog. "Escape the maze." This is a term I have recently started using, to describe my battle with depression. I was 12 years old, when I fir...

I'm a writer

"I'm a writer." This is something I say often, but it's not always easily understood. I said that to someone once, and she replied with, "Well, what does that mean?" How can I explain what it is to be a writer? For me, being a writer is not being able to talk. It's preferring email or letters or text over a phone call, because I feel so much more comfortable with a pen in my hand or a keyboard on my lap than I do when I have to find words to speak. What defines me as a writer? For a while I struggled with this question. What makes me a writer? So I sometimes get the urge to write my feelings. Isn't that normal? Doesn't everyone else feel like that too? The answer came to me, unsurprisingly, during a writing session. I realized, the difference between me and someone else, can mainly be boiled down to two things. The first is, I feel it. I feel my words, they flow through me, and when I start typing I cannot stop. I feel the words in my v...