Life is full of expectations. And I think, for the longest time, I didn’t realize that many of them were not mine. As I am turning 30, I reflect on what I have accomplished so far, and naturally, beat myself up for what I haven’t. That is, until I realized that the expectations that were lacking were not things I ever wanted for myself to begin with.

If I am completely honest, I kind of thought that once I had gathered the courage to talk about my feelings with a stranger, that would be all I needed. That was the work. Sitting across the room from a therapist and reliving my nightmares was not easy. How could it that not be enough?

While I do not define myself by my diagnoses, I have found that I do better when the people surrounding me are understanding, forgiving and generally those who assume the best in others. I hope to reflect such kind traits in my own behavior too. It took a lot of thinking before I was able to identify what truly matters when it comes to building friendships.

It recently happened that I lost 20 lbs or 9 kg in six months. After having to replace my wardrobe and getting used to seeing my new form in the mirror, one thing I never expected was that the women I talked to about this would immediately respond to my concern with jealousy.

I don’t know what I am afraid of more: darkness, loneliness, or the silence they both can bring with them. Once the lights go off, my brain churns in overtime. The shadows shift into something that isn’t there, and all my biggest fears seem to be real. For me, the dark is the time for each memory to play out anew.