So, Wednesday marks 41 times around the sun for me. Big whoop. I'm really not afraid of that number. I'm not angry about the stiffness in my joints every morning. I'm not resentful of the fact that I have to squint a little to read the Sunday crossword. I'm not even upset about the handful of white hairs that have suddenly popped up around my hairline. I'm not a vain person. I have always embraced the idea of growing older, always looked forward to proudly wearing my wrinkles earned through a full life. It's everything else attached to my birthday that makes me want to crawl in a cave and hide til next week.
My little sister was born in the middle of my 3rd birthday party and I've had very few pleasant birthday memories since. And now that she's gone I can't think of my birthday without thinking about her. And I can't think about her without thinking about all the crap attached to that.
Plus, thinking about my birthday makes me have to think about how yet another year has gone by and I'm further away from where I thought I'd be by now. I just wish my birthday would go away.
I'm really trying to get to the place where I can let all this go. I know I should be grateful for the blessings I have instead of being hung up on what I don't have. If you have any hints or tips on how to do that, let me know.
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