Happy 31st birthday to me.

Do you have an "all-time-low?" When I think of mine, it's a two month stretch that started on my 30th birthday. Yeah, two months. Without getting into to too much detail, I remember journaling, "I am disposable" over and over, day in and day out.

I am ashamed to type this, but there was one specific time when I knew I would never kill myself, because insurance companies don't pay out life insurance when the cause of death is suicide. I didn't want my family to have that financial burden. "Oh, Lauren! Being a burden again. Once again." That's now how I would go out.

And Bruiser.

Basically, those were the two things keeping me alive. Practicality and my dog.

This won't be a long post.

But today, I turn 31.

I still struggle with mental health. But do I want to die? Absolutely not.

I worked my ass off to get here. And I had to have A LOT of grace with myself, and I still have not entirely forgiven myself for all the times I was "weak."

Today, I am filled with optimism and even self-worth.

It took thousands of dollars of therapy, which I recognize not everyone has access to. It took two panic attacks. It took a friend rushing over in the middle of the night and staying with me for three straight days. It took 33 consecutive days off work, unpaid. It took unconditional love from a few loyal people who rode it out with me in the darkest days and pretty much forced me to consume food.

It took rock bottom.

To myself, I say, "Happy 31st birthday."

If you are reading this, you are stronger than you seem and braver than you believe (I stole that from somewhere).

To anyone struggling, 365 days can make all the difference. You may not believe it now, but one day, you'll wake up and think, "It's all going to be okay."

As the Lumineers sing, "It's alright, it's alright, it's alright, it's your birthday dear."