Two, Four, Six, Eight, Who is Turning 48? Me!

I know, I know. It's cheesy! And honestly, most people don't make such a big deal about their own birthday. In fact, before I hit my 40's, I usually treated my birthday much the same as any other day of the year. My forties changed that forever.

Those of you who know me know that my mother died young...a couple of months before  her forty-seventh birthday, in fact. And in those  years since her death, it has stayed in the back of my mind, that lingering dark thought of, "What if I die young like my mom? What if I, too, don't live to see my forty-seventh birthday?" As the end of my forty-sixth year played out, the little dark thought became this tight knot in the pit of my stomach. My mind was a scrambled mess of even darker thoughts and questions galore. What had I been doing with my life? What had I become? If she was looking down on me, would she be proud of the choices I'd been making, or disgusted that I didn't do whatever it was she thought I ought to be doing? In fact, those doubts and fears started creeping in well before, as my girls graduated high school and moved on to begin their big girl lives. I questioned if I was now "done" with my purpose, having gotten them safely to a place where they could take over and care for themselves. It occurred to me that perhaps that was the main task I had been born for. Many call this time of questioning a "mid-life crisis" and truthfully, though that sounds as cheesy as this blog title, it's as good an explanation as any for my mind to explode with thoughts of self-doubt.

So, now here we are, me on the other side of my mother's fateful and untimely end, my life still ticking along ever forward. I am finally finding my footing, after leaving military life (which was all I'd known for my entire adult life). I'm finally growing more comfortable than ever in my own skin, knowing who I am, what I want, and where I'm going...okay, sort of on that last one. Admittedly, I am no longer allowing others' expectations of what I should be doing to drag me along this life haphazardly. I am also no longer standing in a tornado of fear and self doubt. I'm not sure where I'm going at least half the time, but it's finally not terrifying to say that. I have a general direction I've pointed my little compass towards and that's good enough for me.

And tomorrow, when I am in the first hours of forty-eight, I'll be on horseback, riding mountain trails (one of my happiest places to be) with a view that takes my breath away, then later sitting in a lawn chair under a sea of stars watching a movie (okay, mostly I'll be staring at those stars, but there will be a movie in the background of my celestial gazing). In the coming days I'll try new things (whitewater rafting, God help me & cave exploration,  no bats please, even though I think they're pretty darn cute) and indulge in things I already love (three new books just waiting for my attention, as well as spending time with my not-so-tiny human, whose company is a constant adventure)! As for the rest of my day, I think I'll make my own birthday cake (a fact that has my husband extremely grumpy).

I'm alive and well, surrounded by a Tribe who loves me that I completely adore. I work two jobs that make me happy down to my bones (writer & teacher). One pays the bills and gives me purpose, while the other feeds my soul and nourishes parts of me that I'm just now getting to know. The road I'm on is still pretty damn bumpy (with the loss of my father and the nightmare of untangling his estate), but that's life...right? I'm making it, getting there (wherever "there" may be). And Mama, if you're listening, I promise not to waste a second...for both of us. I've got ya, right here in my heart.

Always,
A.