Today was my 40th birthday. 40. Wow. I arrived at
this day, kicking and screaming, dragged through the mud by life the whole way.
I want to be graceful. I want to look at 40 and say “Hell
Yea! I made it here. No one, including myself, thought I would! I understand so
much more about myself and embrace the next 40 years. I’ve made a lot of
mistakes and been through a lot, but now I have so much more knowledge and so
much to offer others! I look and feel great!” But, I cannot. Grace and I don’t
really get along. In fact, the heavy depression that is my shadow has been
stalking me heavily, as of late. It has been whispering in my ear all of the
things I have not done, have not accomplished, will not accomplish. Speaking in
hushed tones of the time that is slipping, so quickly, away from me. Reminding
me my babies are not little anymore. That one has left this earth, untouchable.
And every day, I must fight this dark passenger (a joke for you Dexter fans),
and it is exhausting.
Most of my friends are between 38 and 50. I know several, really great people in their 60s & 70s as well. They are good people. I do
not look at any of them and think they are old. Or that they should have it all
figured out by now; that they should never make a mistake or get off track.
Quite the opposite. I try to offer them understanding, and second chances and
support. Most of them are in the prime
of their life. Most of them are the most beautiful they have ever been, inside
and out. And the ones that aren’t, well…those aren’t really people I associate
with anymore. Because I’ve learned something, at least. But, that beauty, in
the good ones, it shines so bright. Maybe that is what scares me. The fading. The
downhill. The slope. Moreover, the fact that I cannot do anything about that. And, somehow, all the things I forgive and
feel about others, I fail to apply to myself.
At the end of the day-I may not have the amount I want in my
savings account; I may not be or ever see my ideal weight or have the cup size
I wish for; I may not always have the best health; I may not have the
helicopter, the house with a staff and a lazy river; the endless vacations or
any of that fluff.
However, what I do have is priceless. I have a home, a family, food in the fridge and clothing in my closet and a job I love. I am surrounded by the
absolute best people. They may not cure cancer or solve world hunger (although
they might), but they are amazing individuals. They are smart, thoughtful,
caring, funny people who continuously show me love and support and loyalty.
They, for some unbeknownst reason, care for me and understand my brand of
crazy. They show up at 40th surprise birthday parties 40 days before
my birthday, like that’s not weird. They stay up late at night planning
something so special it will pull a tear from my restrained dry eyes. They are
there when the days are dark and rainy. They are there when the sun shines, and
it is time to celebrate. And they are beautiful, inspiring and astounding. I
have the most thoughtful, considerate husband in the world. Who puts together a
birthday party with a million balloons and reminds me every day that I am
loved, and that there is always hope. That I am not alone. I could write a book
on this man, and perhaps one day I will. He could give lessons. He is the
definition of amazing. And more.
And so…with all of those amazing people surrounding me, with
all of that hope and positivity, I put my 30s to bed. They are gone. I cannot
do anything about this. I have lost more important things. It is beyond my
control and I will accept defeat, this time. I will take the advice I gave
today and realize life never makes sense to us. You can wish for what you want
or you can work towards a goal, you can fast forward through the crappy stuff,
but in the end, you miss all the important things if you do this. All those
heartbreaking moments where you share a tear, all the ordinary moments of
making dinner and laundry and homework, all the times you lend a hand or offer friendship,
or the sharing of humor and a cup of coffee, they add up to an important life that touches
many.
I have seen so very much in my 40 years. Not as much as most, and more then some. 40 years, think about it. The Bears
won a Super Bowl. Spaceships flew and fell. Wars have broken out. Wars have
ended. The state of the Union has changed drastically. I lost a classmate in 2nd
and 4th grade. I still miss them. The Soviet Union dissolved. Cults
have murdered their followers. I have seen 7 presidents work their way through
the White House. I made lifelong friends. I lost friends who I thought would be
lifelong friends. I got married. I got divorced. I had 3 beautiful children. I
buried my father. I watched my nieces and nephews grow. I played Volleyball on
a bar league. I raced my Trans Am at Byron Speedway. I rode horses. I loved
Heavy Metal. I traveled to Ireland. I used a Commodore 64 as my first computer.
I skipped a lot of high school. I got in a lot of trouble. I remember the sound
of the internet modem dialing up. I got my motorcycle license. My first cell
phone was a bag phone. I have seen the emergence of technology beyond belief.
I have walked in a Suicide Awareness fundraiser. I remember our first VCR. It
was about the size of a microwave. I ran/walked, but finished a 5k and tore my meniscus
in the first 30 seconds, which led to the removal of 75% of it a few months
later.I have been a friend. I have been an enemy. I have watched the debate on abortion, GMOs, stem cell research,
cloning and civil rights. I have learned to cook well. I have watched the
towers fall and a nation mourn. I have stepped on Ellis Island where almost all
of our ancestors came through. I have fallen in love. I have married. I have
seen the fall of the Berlin Wall. I have seen my children do things they didn’t
think they could. I have witnessed miracles. I have watched their first steps
and held them to my chest. I have seen compassion where it was not expected. I
have found music that touches my soul. I have rolled my jeans. I have learned
to drive a stick shift. I have made people laugh. I have buried a son. I have
seen the most beautiful sunsets. I have swam in rivers, lakes, pools & the
ocean. And probably a puddle. I have seen puppies, kittens, foals & babies
born. I have been the partner for a friend in a Lamaze class.
And along the way, there were those people. You people. Thank
you all for loving me, even when I am unlovable. Or at least tolerating me. You
mean more to me than you could know.
Here is just a little insight into what 40 looks like on me and what the year leading up
to the big 40 looked like.
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