What happens when you don’t commit suicide? (The answer will SHOCK you!)

I made this video yesterday but didn’t get time to post it because I was assembling the closet. Which came out awesome, BTW!

When I was a kid, my mother was totally used to me being suicidally depressed. Honestly, I think she liked it that way. But the second I was happy–or God forbid I laughed–she would just massively dump on the shame. She pathologized me being happy, and then when I was in my 20s I think she was googling stuff on the Internet and decided to start a rumor that I was bipolar (which is really not true clinically, although if it were, it still shouldn’t have been shamed like I’d broken my mother’s heart). So I like being happy, but I’m always scared to express happiness to other people.

So I’ll just say I’m content with life. February break was amazing. I painted a flower pot and planted seeds. I read a cookbook while sipping tea and snuggling my cat. I continued working toward having furniture. I was able to consider the possibility of taking up hobbies or developing new skills, which I never got to do as a kid.

My poor mother. She would cry bitter tears if she knew that it had come to this. Her daughter is free. And her daughter is happy.