From Fourty-One to Fourty-Two

Today I am 42. Fourty two freaking years old.
I looked and listened for a song that would capture the last year of my life. I toyed with more Concrete Blonde, went through all of the Stars that I know and love. Hell, I even thought about some Blue Rodeo for old time's sake. But nothing quite hit the roller coaster year I've had.

I went back, and frankly thanks to the blogosphere you can too, and re-read last year's birthday stuff - just to get a feel for where my head was. I thought about where I was and where I am today and I came up with this pearl of wisdom for you.

There is nothing quite as sobering as a brush with almost near kinda death to make you see what a crazy insane psycho bitch you have the potential to be.

No.
Wait.
That's not it at all.

Love will save the day, set you free and sustain you.

Well. That's closer anyway!

Anyone who knows me even a little knows that my one real rule in life is that everyone must love me. The idea that someone doesn't like me is really the worst thought ever! I take what affection and attention that is offered and I revel in it - I really honestly do. I seek it out. I embrace any kind of love. In fact, I've said a tonne of times before - do we find love often enough that we can afford to ever turn it away? No matter who it is?

Well, with age comes wisdon and this year I changed my attitude a bit. I started to try to find love that made me FEEL loved and in turn made me feel good about myself.

I mean all kinds of love. Friends - family - where ever love finds us these days.

This past year I took a new attitude with my family. I love them all - each and every one of my extended family: cousins, aunts, uncles, dead parents, divorced in laws, estranged brothers. But, I'm not going to force myself into places I don't naturally fit. My kids need family - as much as I do. But they need it to be effortless and comforting not forced and surreal.

They say the definition of crazy is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Well, I can't throw holiday parties that my mother would love. I just don't have it in me. And you know, she's never going to fucking show up. So, it doesn't really matter does it? Its time I started pleasing myself - not my dead mother.

When I went to my cousin's funeral and my Aunt said that they were all "so proud" of how I'd handled myself in spite of the shitful fucked up hand I'd been dealt (paraphrasing of course gentle reader - my "Auntie Lois" would NEVER in a million years say shitful or fucked up)I cried for days like the blubbering puke that I am. Why? Not because she was right, although in hindsight she likely is, but because I needed that approval and validation from them - I sucked it up.

After I gave my head a good shake (read: Rick told me not to be such an idiot) I realized how pathetic that is. I don't need what essentially amounts to pity. I know I cope amazingly well. Somtimes I forget. But I KNOW I rock the crisis hard core. I am "Crisis chick". I should get a t-shirt - maybe even a cape.....hm.

I also made some decisions on how I manage my personal relationships. I know I hurt people who love me and who I love. I didn't mean to because, hell people, if you are following at all, I just want to be loved, but not all love is good for you. Some love was not good for me.

I did some pretty fantastically stupid things this year. And NO I am not going to make you a list! Suffice it to say that each and every wrong turn I made, I made a note of. I will try not to do it again. I can't say that I won't because I am the queen of unfulfilled promise, but I do have geniunely pure intentions.

I had, what some might say, a triumphant year for a 41 year old woman.

I discovered new things, bits and peices of confident sexy me that haven't seen the light of day in forever. Those peices of me own good high heels, push up bras and rock the short skirt. I like that girl. She's fun and flirty and confident and pretty fucking brilliant and in her fourties. She's not ashamed of her age, she's not too old to do anything, she's got wrinkles and sags and doesn't give a rat's royal ass. Because after all this time she's figured out that it really IS what is inside that gives her the bravado. She forgets sometimes and still wears crocs but I think we'll keep her.

I made moves to take this chick places. I took her to the magazine and wrote an article they actually published. And sure, its in ESL level 4 english but its a start, right.

I have read, this year, peices that have inspired me. I have collaborated. I have shared things I never thought I'd have the courage to share. I have opened myself, my heart and my soul to people in ways I never thought I would and for that I am eternally grateful. I FEEL exceedingly excessively loved.

Sometimes life is about opportunity.

I had tremendous opportunity this year. I took them. I didn't solve all my problems or make the world a better place or cure cancer or feed the homeless. None of those things. But I did the best I could.

My friend Dan said this today: "you just have some "tweaking" to do. not on your blog. but on life..." And, I think, he may be right.

Is it too corny to say that I'm taking steps in the right direction? I'm surrounded by people I love who love me back and they are walking with me where I need to go.