It just so happens that today is my birthday. I’m a whole 28 years old! Much like most 28-year-olds, I’ve got hair growing on my chest, and I get all shy around anyone I find attractive. But that’s business as usual.

There’s no time quite like a birthday to get all introspective about your life so far, and this birthday is no different. In some ways I’m a bit down about it. This time ten years ago, when I was just reaching what many consider “being a proper adult”, I had a lot of dreams and plans. I wanted to be writing a dozen books a year, for a start. Quite obviously that didn’t happen. So what did happen? Mostly a long-term battle with problems I’d had all my life but wouldn’t get diagnosed with until I was in my twenties.

It’s no secret that I have issues with depression. If you didn’t know that before, then you do now, which is what I mean by “no secret”. I’m quite open about it. In the past I wasn’t. I was quite reluctant to mention it, and actually embarrassed by it. As if it was somehow my fault that I was born with brain chemistry that differed from the norm.

So maybe I’m a little sad that I didn’t manage to launch myself into a career with writing straight out of school. If I had, maybe I’d be in a better position now. But that’s living in the past. This birthday I am determined to focus on all the good things in my life. I have a book out, I’m a legitimate author now. I have a wonderful relationship that makes me happy. I have family, friends, and now when people ask me what I do for a living, I can say I’m an author without adding “struggling” or “wannabe” in front.

Next year I’m sure I’ll be just as happy, maybe even moreso. Plus I have a birthday cake, and it’s downright delicious.