I haven’t felt much like writing this year. This blog, my book draft, other attempts at deep thoughts on digital paper — all of them seem to require the same amount of energy as carrying a full laundry bag down ten blocks. But I still feel compelled to recognize my Alive Day. It’s my annual reminder to stop and think about how happy I am to be here.

I started writing these posts on my old blog (oh hi Blogger) on the second anniversary of getting hit by a flying SUV that could have killed me but didn’t. (I’m not sure why I missed the first anniversary. Maybe I was trying to put it behind me. Or maybe I had had too many nights in a row of staying out late drinking too many cheap beers and then coming home and eating cupcakes for dinner. That sounds pretty accurate for 24-year-old me.) And now, on year fourteen, I’ve become a completist who needs to stop and write about it every year. At least, as long as blogs exist. And when they don’t, I will find some other way to recognize the day and be grateful for being here.

These days, many things feel bleak, and I often feel like I’m at the bottom of a hole looking for the ladder out, but I do appreciate how lucky I am. I am a middle-class, employed, white woman living with a supportive and loving partner in a liberal city in an apartment full of books. Yes, some parts of my body are still messed up (ask me about pelvic physical therapy!), but I am HERE, and there is so much I can do. Even now, when I don’t feel like doing much. I can read stories from other people instead of just writing my own. I can donate money to people and organizations that need it. I can VOTE. And if I’m feeling it, I can dance.

So: remember what you’re capable of. Go be alive. Maybe take a dance break if you’re feeling it. And also vote!