If I am going to be honest, it is just a birthday.
I'm not really sure when I stopped caring about birthdays (mine), but I suspect it happened 14 years ago (age 25) when my first child was born. I ceased looking forward to celebrating my years and began celebrating the milestones of my children. Maybe that's wrong. Maybe I am missing the big stuff in my ever so sparkly life (insert sarcasm) while I observe the birthdays of my offspring. (I was going to say document, but I lack that scrap booking gene. It must be recessive like my picture taking gene.)
So, I am going to recognize my future 40, by paying homage to the years I have used up thus far.
Birth - High School Graduation: a series of failures and successes. Awards, accolades, and recognition for accomplishments. The future bright and mine to mold. Sprinkle in the disappointment of a limited love life, no boobs upon puberty, and no idea what I want to be when I grow up. Survived heartbreak and the dissolving and the rekindling of my parent's marriage. Bring on adulthood!
Young Adulthood. Gawd this sucks. I know no more now than I did as a kid, yet my confidence and ignorance keep me marching forward into a world of childlike grown-ups. I still have no idea what I want out of life, so I marry a man (boy) I have known for less than 10 months and leave home, university and my problems. Great plan, except that my marriage is a rocky one (lasting 10 years), my problems have followed me, my confidence has disappeared, & I miss home. I start an adventure of rediscovering who I really am and desire to be (talk about a rollercoaster ride).
Ahhh my 30's. I found love. True love. I love me (most of the time...ok, some of the time...I am a work in progress). Scars, failures, and cellulite included (not really the cellulite bit but it ain't going anywhere). I am getting happier in my own skin. I know who I am and what I want (subject to change). I am accused of being outspoken by those who are threatened by people who SPEAK UP. I learn that I am a teacher, a cheerleader, a teammate, a friend, an ally, and a broken person....and always have been. I love being in the company of greatness as it gives me something to strive for and people to admire. I still have no idea what I want to be when I grow up and I hope I never do (grow up). I often share my ideals, which change with the wind, and I am certain I have a flakiness to me that Tenderflake shortening would admire.
T minus 3 months and I will be 40. I can predict my metabolism will slow even more, grey hair may make an appearance, laugh lines will grow, and skin will sag. I know that the fore mentioned had better be prepared for a good fight. I do not concede (call it a weakness... I call it strength). I have plans. I plan to help more people. Give more of me to others and to me. I am lifting weights, opening my mind, and biting my tongue (when I remember to do so).
I still have no desire to celebrate my 40th other than to recognize it is better than the other option (no more birthdays)...and of course, with 3 months to go, my mind is subject to change.
Stay happy & healthy
www.jomoma.ca
As I recall -- and that's not a given anymore -- the forties were good. Look forward, Chicky. It's all good.
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