This year so far has been such a strange one. This Summer was one of the happiest I can remember, I had all my friends around me, I was feeling good about myself and being active, I had a job so my bank account was super healthy, and it was summer so of course I was happy.

But as tends to occur, summer doesn't last forever and sweet summer children need to harden the fuck up because shit gets real eventually. Liz died and Mia and Ben broke up and I hated Uni assignments so much that this semester I actively avoid them due to some kind of assignment PTSD, and it was such a confusing time because I don't know how to be sad always or happy without catching a glimpse of the deep dark grief on the edge of the horizon, but I fell in love that Autumn too, deeply, in the calmest, most easy way, that made me feel happy and kind and loving and cherished, even if it wasn't romantic love and I felt devastated when it was over though only for a night, before I began to cope.

That's what this entry is about- coping. How people manage to do it, no matter the circumstances, we go on and on and on because that's all we can do. Or suicide I suppose but that's never something that has ever crossed my radar, even for a second, for which I am grateful, because I know many other people's journeys are not so fortunate.

Something people have told me this year is that I'm strong. That I have some strength that is worth noting, that is commendable and that not everyone has. I don't know if that is true or not but apparently I have low self esteem when it comes to accepting good things about myself, especially things that are pervasive throughout many situations, not just one in particular #therapy

I felt skeptical about this strength thing because I didn't think I did anything anyone else wouldn't do. I coped. I carried on, and didn't let my life fall apart because that's just what I had to do. It doesn't seem to me like a feat of strength to do what you have to do. I actively understood that it would be difficult, and I channelled all my feelings in the best ways I knew how. Me and my brain have been doing this dance together for 21 years now, we have a pretty good idea of what works because I'm a pretty self reflective and introspective person. The most detailed character study I'm ever going to do is on myself and I'm still learning but I knew what I needed with Liz, for the most part. I knew I needed as few regrets as possible and in her last year I did see her a lot and I was there. The last things she said to me were I love you very much and I am so proud of you and I told her I loved her and that she was the best cousin ever because it was true, and even know I can't think of anything else that I could have said that would have been better, even if it bemuses me some of the other random things I told her, things that didn't matter to someone that was dying, but that she listened to regardless and I think she understood. I don't regret seeing her that last time and while I understand why some relatives didn't want their last memory to be sad and of a Liz they didn't recognise, for anyone who was close, it wasn't an option not to say goodbye and it didn't change how I saw her or the wonder of her life, it didn't change the whole story by fucking up the ending, it just made it more complete and final.

I knew for the funeral that I needed the right dress. I didn't know why exactly at the time, it seemed so superficial, to think about how I looked, to care who saw me and thought I was beautiful in my grief but I cared and thought badly of myself for it. I realise now that a large part of it was a coping mechanism that gave me a sense of control over everything by planning out the only aspect of the funeral that I could, and that that heavy black dress that I tried on every day leading up to funeral was my way of feeling in control, that as long as I had that dress on, with its high neck and modest length and soft fabric that made me feel older and wiser and solemn in a way that I couldn't otherwise feel, things would be alright. The dress also made things feel real, which was one of the things I most struggled with. I still think that I am different in that way and believe that grief does change you, and that the world is split into people that have experienced it and those that haven't. But also that grief is just isolating and even among people who share that grief, if I think of Liz in a random moment and look around at my friends who are laughing and smiling, I feel the oddest sense of betrayal and isolation, though it isn't real. No one is sad all the time and of course you cannot expect everyone to share the exact same grief cycle. I don't know how others cope, or cry, or feel lost or who look at me laughing and feel that same sense of disconnect.

I still think about Liz everyday, sometimes briefly, sometimes for hours on end. I can remember her for 50 reasons in 50 minutes and only rarely am I disabled by it. Sometimes I need a moment, other times I need a cry, or a comfort item like her ribbon in my hair or to do something that she'd have done or would approve of. A lot of the new stuff I've been doing this year are things she did and I remember what she said about it and feel very grateful that her advice is still guiding me, even the same random shit like going to the gym early so you can drive and then move your car into good parking while it is still early. Total life hack. Some stuff I know she did I do know and feel eerie, like I am experiencing something that she did, maybe thinking what she did, sharing a little bit of her life. These are the things that help me cope. Same with the ribbons that I wore religiously for about four months before realising I didn't need them anymore.

For me, strength is just having coping strategies that work for you and the rest is just luck, that the mind and body you have has been gifted with fortitude and grit and a tendency towards happiness. There's a discussion to be had at this point about whether or not we have free will or if our unique mix of chemicals and brain chemistry and experience and protective factors set us up to fail or succeed with complete determination. Honestly I am reluctantly a determinist, who thinks that all of my good qualities, like my ability to get up early and go to the gym and word hard, it's not me, it's just luck, the mix of what makes my mind up. Even if I was to try to improve my mind, change the characteristics that make me up , my mental abilities, the motivation for those changes is innate. All we ever need is the right stimulus or input and we'll get a set, pre determined result. Should people get props for that?

Let's get off philosophy. What I learnt this year, in this year of 'it was the best of times, it was the worst of times' is that I do have a profound ability to cope with sadness and loss and not feel broken. I lost Liz, I lost Jen and then I lost Mia this year. Jen thankfully I only lost to distance, and she still plays a role in my life, albeit a reduced one due to not being here to experience it with me. Mia though... Somehow we ended, with a whimper, rather than anything rather dramatic. I still have hope for us. I've called her my best friend for life for far too long to do anything less, but I am also very calm about the loss, knowing that right now the ball is in her court, that regardless of outcome we will never be the same (for better or for worse), and that if we are never friends again, it won't mean that we didn't love each other very much, that she was anything less that exactly what I needed for many years and that if our lives changing and us changing with them was too much for that best friendship then that is okay too.

Every day I grow without her and in a new direction, and as much as I miss knowing which way she is blooming and who is guiding that growth if not me, I feel okay letting it go. I'm pleased with where I am and even more excited by where I am going, and who I might end up being and what I want from life and from people and from relationships and what I expect.

Maybe that is what strength is. To feel okay with independence, with yourself, to be alone and to survive. To make new friends and to make changes when necessary. To water the grass on the side o the fence you are in, not stare enviously at the green grass elsewhere, because the grass is always greenest where you water it.

Fuck it, I'm just gonna say it, regardless if it's self determined or pre determined. I am strong. I'm proud of myself for this year. I have faith that the rest of the year will be better and that I'll reach my goals and end up in places I didn't expect but will enjoy more for their unexpectedness. The way that in some culture broken bowls are put back together with gold to fill the cracks, I'm going to make the sad times of this year mean something, to help guide me through to better times, to inspire me to reach my goals and seek happiness wherever I can. I know that's cheesy. But sometimes cheesy is good. I wanna feel better, and be better, and I have such big dreams, if only I have the confidence and the willpower and the determination to keep reaching for them.