Happy (?) anniversary

If I should choose a compensatory day for celebrating my birthday, it would be February the tenth. This date reminds me of two extreme experiences which had quite significant impact on my life:

The first took place nineteen years ago, when my parents were recommended -ironically enough, for the sake of MY health- to move from the capital (where I was born) to a smaller city surrounded by mountains (where I then spent almost fourteen years before returning to the capital for my college studies).
Of course, moving flat is no big deal for most (normal) people. But I was taking it really hard. To me, it wasn't about moving from polluted air to fresh air at all.
I saw it only as being kidnapped from a nice, fully reconstructed tenement flat in the centre of my beloved city of perfect springs and autumns, to the prison consisting of four bare walls in a small flat in a scary block of flats in a cold and depressive city of eternal winter and rain.
In the capital, I had many friends and felt loved and understood. It took me much longer than it is usual to find some friends among the hostile strangers.
When we were leaving our old flat on the tenth of February, I was crying, sure that one part of my heart, which I left with the place I considered home, was killed.
But perhaps the worst thing about it was not leaving the friends I had already made in the capital, but leaving those friends, whom I did not have time enough to make by then. Some years later I found out that the first person I thought very highly of in my new place of residence-my scout group leader- used to live in our close neighbourhood in the capital. And more years later I found out that my college soul mate, a boy of whom I cared from the very beginning of my studies as if he was my twin, spent his childhood just a few streets far from my original home. And if I had not left then, we would most probably have attended the same elementary and high schools...

The second reason for this date being of great importance to me is exactly three years old. Once again I could find myself inside a car then. In a car crashed into a concrete crash barrier that is; sharing the consequences of the accident and interrelated adrenalin rush with the soul mate mentioned above. It was only his brilliant reflexes that made it possible for me to be writing this post right now.
I told him then that we should celebrate this day as our new common birthday. The problem was that the consequences of this accident lead to the fact that on the first anniversary I was already not so sure whether there was anything to celebrate and whether this boy was the right kind of soul mate for me.

Nevertheless, I now feel all three of the old pains as being lessened. If I used to think of this day as the date of my coming close to death, first emotional, later physical and then psychical again, now I am able to be more objective. I try to look back at both occasions as at being given a new chance, new opportunity to change my life or to at least think of it in different ways. However painful and difficult it was to cope with the new environment or with the fear of driving a car after the accident or with the dangerous levels of certain relationships, all of it made me stronger in the end. And I might not feel happy right now, but at least I am still alive.

At the moment, I am celebrating this day by writing an email, asking the teacher who has the right to decide about my studies if and when I can come see him and talk to him about my unfinished essay. I wonder - will I succeed or will this be the third time when this date turns my life upside down?