Today is my birthday. I am 42 years old. It’s an age I never expected to see. For my entire life, I believed I would not live past 40. I just couldn’t see past that point, and honestly, if things had not changed, if I had not changed, that definitely could have been the outcome. Luckily, I am doing the hard work and exploring the shadows of my past. Healing is far from easy. It hurts. At times, it sucks. But, then you start seeing the growth and the progress. You start to feel better. At 42, I am entering this unforeseen year actually, for the first time ever, truly loving myself. I am still working, and there is a lot still to do, but this is huge for me. I have a lifetime of hating myself - everything I could possibly think of, I hated vehemently. I am an emotional person, and the hatred was powerful. I took my bullies’ words and ran with them, committed them to memory, and lived by them. For a lifetime. Maybe it is a kind of death. Ego death? Not that I am claiming to not still fa...