Two years ago I couldn't name one interest I had to save my life. 

My first abandonment (he left when I still wanted to work on the relationship), loss of a treasured job, a suicide attempt, 36 hours in jail, deportation, two stints in psychwards later, getting my heart broken yet again, dental surgery, three tattoos and a shit ton of therapy and adding lithium to my "medical diet" later, I CAN EASILY name TWENTY-SIX things that excite me and I want to do, and some of them I do already.

I still haven't had a moment when I felt glad I didn't kill myself, I don't know if I ever will, but I have 26 interests. Unbelievable.