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This is 53


So, this is 53.
Birthday SUP - first time out on the paddleboards this year
I don’t believe in New Year’s Resolutions – but if I DID believe in making promises to yourself that you wanted to keep for a whole year – I would do them on my BIRTHDAY instead of New Year’s.  A birthday is something personal.  It is YOUR day.  It is a clean slate.  A new beginning.  Starting fresh.

It's nearly impossible to use a camera timer and get two people in one SUPing photo... 
That didn't stop up from trying!
But instead of resolutions about what I will do going forward, I think it would be wise to take a look backward and see what 52 (and the years before that) may have taught me.

I have been open and honest – 2018 SUCKED.  It was a very hard year for my entire family.  It started with David breaking his collar bone, which turned out to be the very least of our worries and poor David in his arm sling was tossed to the bottom of the care taking priority pile rather quickly once my sister got diagnosed with brain cancer.  Then came Dad’s heart issues, heart attack, surgery, and death. 

So yeah, age 52 sorta bit the big one.

But 52 did teach me some things, and reinforced beliefs I had held previously but not really expressed to others (or myself perhaps).

At 52, I was an open book.  I have always worn my heart on my sleeve (oh my, two idioms in one paragraph, I am sorry).  But at 52, I realized more than ever that it was ok to SHARE my story.  Whatever was happening in my life, good or bad, if I was able to write about it, photograph it, SHARE IT, the burden seemed to not only be on me, but many friends stepped in to help to lift it.  If I communicated (usually through writing) openly and honestly, people didn’t judge (as a younger me may have feared).  Instead, they shared that they, too, had thought, felt, experienced, worried about the same things.  Suddenly, I was not alone.  And by sharing my voice I think I helped others realize that they were not alone, either.  Being able to write and post openly and honestly helped me make it though a difficult year (and saved me thousands in therapy bills – thank you for reading and being so supportive!).

At 52, I was better at advocating for myself.  Instead of keeping quiet and letting situations, people, experiences upset me and bring me down, I was better able to speak up.  I still fear and avoid conflict, but when it comes up now, I am better at taking a breath and speaking my mind.  (Case in point is the cemetery worker who got an earful (or 2…) from me last week when he treated me very disrespectfully.  A younger me would have kept quiet and accepted his rudeness, but (sadly for him…) 52 year old me let ‘er rip.)

At 52, I realized that my house will never be organized or clean.  My house is a reflection of me – messy, full of unfinished ideas and projects, and well lived in.  You won’t find a lot of “fluff” – no decorative throw pillows and the like.  But you will find piles of papers, half painted paintings, and suitcases waiting to be unpacked.  If that’s not to your liking, my house is probably not the best place for you to visit.  Let’s meet at the coffee shop instead!

And at 52, I was reminded that life is short.  That we should take every opportunity to hug a friend or loved one.  To call a parent just to chat.  To eat a big ol’ piece of pie.  Because tomorrow is not guaranteed, and if you do not celebrate today, that is 24 hours that will not come again.

At 53 you will see me celebrate.  You will see me cry.  And you will see me love.  I am both excited and nervous for what this year has to bring – but I say – BRING IT ON.  Let’s do this.

LET'S DO IT!


Birthday selfie with my love


Comments

Anonymous said…
I love you so!!!

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