1/40

A birthday cake with its top layer of frosting gone, is tossed on someone's front lawn

About a month an a half ago I turned 40. I didn’t have a crisis about this. I didn’t think “holy shit I’m getting old”. I didn’t get sad. I’m doing alright for 40. In fact I’m doing better than I ever have at any other time in my life. I have a place to live. I have a job that pays alright and I’m (mostly) happy and good at. I have money to pay my bills. I have health insurance. I’m in a stable romantic/sexual relationship with someone. My kids are alright.

But if I turned 40 that means my younger kid was 10. My older kid will be 20. My mom is 70.

Ok maybe now I feel a little old but more than old, more than (in)secure – I recognized there was some shit in my life I needed to get serious about. Most of these things fall in the often overused term but underused practices of self care.

If I have insurance (including dental) why haven’t I fixed my teeth?
(mostly shame)
If I can pay all my bills why am not saving some money?
(mostly scarcity mentality)
If I am in a relationship why do we (sometimes) have such a hard time communicating in healthy ways?
(mostly both of our traumas)
If I have a stable job where I actually have some agency/control (real talk I’m the boss), why do I feel like I have to prove myself by working three times as hard as anyone else and not drawing boundaries between work/home?
(mostly guilt)
Why did I get bronchitis twice in a 6 week period?
(see above)
Why have I stopped writing when that has always been such a core part of me?
(mostly fear)

So inspired by a dear friend of mine who for y 40th gave me a beautiful journal to write my bucket list in – I decided to dedicate my 40th year of life to 40 acts of change so that Gods & Ancestors willing my next 40 years of life have some form around them.

I’ve been really lucky that up to now my sort of haphazard way of living/loving has for the most part worked out. I have made a habit, for better or for worse, of taking risks that spoke/speak to my heart. Sometimes these risks have worked out beautifully in unexpected ways (my kids, my time as a journalist, my time in the NPIC as an ED, my moving to Los Angeles. Sometimes the risks have been painful lessons (see all my lovers).

I will continued to take risks that speak to my heart (it really is who I am) but I am going to try and take better care of myself in the process because what all of these risks – regardless of how they have turned out- have taught me, is that that no one is going to love me like me and fuck I can be pretty damn lovable.

1/40 : Return to blogging for the sheer exhibitionist joy it gives me

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