Tonight at 9:41pm I’ll turn forty.
I’ve been having a hard time with that concept. I woke up at some point in January, filled with despair. This year, this July I was going to be forty. In my mind, this number was a towering mass, lumbering, and gently swaying above me. A million leagues above me. I couldn’t see the top, it was shrouded in the clouds, breaking the atmosphere. So high. I’ll never be able to overcome this number I thought. I began to panic.
I talked about it with Lu, as I always do. You see, for eighteen of my forty years, she’s been here, always there. She is my metaphorical rock and my literal best friend, I couldn’t imagine a life, let alone one day without her. She, as she tends to be was rational and supportive and empathic. She said. “Be proud, you earned every one of these years.” I grimaced, and accepted that into my heart as Gospel.
So instead of feeling sorry for myself and letting the giant numbers control my thoughts and days, I decided to take the year to really learn who I am. To really figure out how to love myself. I started posting lessons for myself on Facebook (they live here as well).
What I’ve learned so far is that I really like who I’m becoming, I really like where this life is going, and I don’t regret my experiences, but sometimes I regret my actions.
I’m going to continue posting and learning and understanding who I really am, I am after all still climbing the hill.