Today is my fifteenth Alive Day, and I have to confess: I don’t feel very alive. I was going to say I feel “unalive,” but then I learned that’s Gen Z slang for suicide, so scratch that. (Although it’s also like a joking thing? I don’t know. I feel old.) And I don’t feel much like writing, but this fifteen-year anniversary of my very real brush with death feels too big to ignore.

I am very much in the same place I was at this time last year, which is tough to admit, but also OK, because some parts of my life were also OK last year. I still have a great job, I still have a loving partner, and I still live in my favorite city. But things that used to be a big part of my life are still missing. Perhaps you’ve noticed that I haven’t blogged since last December and I removed the “Shows” calendar from this site. (And if you haven’t noticed, OMG, you mean you’re not constantly refreshing this website waiting patiently for my rambling thoughts and weeknight bar shows?? JK I get it.) That’s because I haven’t had much to write about and I haven’t been performing. And that’s OK! I say that mostly to myself, because I constantly bounce between feeling guilty about not doing those things, then trying to tell myself that it’s OK to not do them.

In some ways I feel like I’ve returned to that hospital a decade and a half ago. I know this sounds melodramatic but bear with me. Obviously, getting hit by a Chevy Suburban and breaking eight bones was horrible. I was dealing with a level of pain that a morphine drip couldn’t keep up with, strangers had to help me pee into a bedpan, and I was devastated that I had to leave New York City after barely arriving. BUT if I can squeeze anything good out of that time, and here I go squeezing hard (into a bedpan?), it is this: I was forced to slow down, listen to myself, and take care of myself. For the first time in a very long time the only thing I had to care about was healing my body. It was a life stripped to its bare essentials. I was also in a lucky position — not the bed-rest, mostly-broken position, but the state of my medical care. I had a home to go back to, I had family to help me, and I didn’t have bills to pay because they were covered by worker’s comp (that last part is a longer story). Each day all I had to do was rest and work on getting stronger.

I’m trying to embrace that 2006 mentality again, but now in the comfort of my own home (with my own bathroom, wow!). I’m reminding myself that it’s OK to go back to basics; it’s OK to take some time to rest and get stronger. When my body (and my brain) is ready, all those lively things I want to do will be there. I’m also not going to forget about the very alive things that I HAVE done over the past year: I got an essay published, I’m in three different writing groups, I got new hair, I got vaccinated, I road-tripped to see my family TWICE, I read 29 books, I built a website, and I’m even tiptoeing back to dance classes.

So maybe I don’t fully feel like it yet, but I AM alive. And so are you.

So let’s go be alive! Vampire fangs optional.