And then one day, we wake up, nearing the half-century mark, having accomplished little and feeling a bit foolish singing the praises of the palty small accomplishments we have made.  And WHAT exactly distinguishes what IS an accomplishment? Is it business success? A good-looking partner? Money, or a beautiful home? Is it a generous heart that others can rely on? Is it a novel, published? When your words spill reverently out of another's lips?

    Guys, I am going to be 50. It's a word too old to imagine. Too steady and Karenish for this faltering timid soul stumbling around in this body. I feel like I am just beginning to open my eyes and already my life is more than halfway over. Maybe 2/3 over. And I am just learning so much now. And so very disappointed by the lessons.

    It doesn't really seem fair. I used to think the world was wide open. Anyone could do and become anything. I don't anymore. Some people truly have a leg up. Sometimes it is financially. Some people were blessed with beautiful faces. Some have inviting personalities and have been taught or gifted with emotional self-control. 

    I am lucky in many ways. But in many others, I was far behind the starting line. And  I am coming to understand that maybe don't change as much as we thought we could. Maybe our core nature IS static. I will always fight being jealous, petty, insecure. It's so gross. I may never see when someone is using me for their own entertainment-or rather- I do see, but I don't believe it- until after the fact. I may always be naively forgiving of those who maybe don't deserve it. I will NEVER master my surging hormones which leave me reeling periodically. In this case, nature will lose. Just a little more time. 

    I think I  may always be socially insecure. I can use the positive self-talk and see that someone isn't better than me rationally, but the fear of eventual rejection, the fear of my own imperfections, is unshakable. To this day, I reel with shame when I post something and noone responds or likes it. I realize either my thinking is remarkably banal or just so out there and personal, I should be sharing with a therapist rather than with you. 

    Maybe the lesson isn't to learn to overcome the imperfections, but to learn to accept the limitations with grace. 

    Maybe there is beauty in accepting one's own nature, learning to tame the beast, whilst always acknowledging the hungry survivalist waiting beneath the surface. Maybe the lessons become too ingrained, too imprinted on our soul. 

    And so I wonder where to go from here. Where to take this next 25 years. I watch myself fade. I let go of once-dreams one-by-one and wonder what is left when all the built up hopes and dreams and fears  drift away. How deeply can I mesh with the soul of who I truly am and stop looking for the soul of who I hope to be?

 Saturday and Sunday mornings are precious times to an introvert. In the old days I would awaken early and enjoy a few quiet hours to myself. Now, however, I have an Alec, who is an early bird, too. I jsut remind myself, that he is always growing and changing, and as a mom of many, I know these moments and years pass quickly. One day I will awaken to a quiet house and long for the sound of someone else's breath and footsteps.

I flipped through the Prime channel this morning and everything looked lovely. I finally settled upon The Secret of Roan Inish. I've seen it before, so it can be background, it's more uplifting for the kiddos than scary, bloodsucking vampires, and the music and sea scenes are pretty much where my soul resides.

The thing is, things are as they must be. Things are better. The kids don't even seem to miss him. But despite things being better this way. I miss having my friend. I miss the good days and weeks, when I felt I could tell him things. I miss my companion and my helper. I miss the person who helped put the kids in bed and was willing to watch chick flicks with me. 

And it isn't loneliness. I am not really lonely most of the time. At least it isn't something I feel too keenly. But it is just the memory of the good times. It was having someone on my side every once in a while. It was saying, "Hey, the refrigerator is broke," and then sitting back, because I knew it would be taken care of.

And there is this underlying guilt. Did I do everything I could? Did I give up on him? Was there a point, years ago, when I could have watched him take his meds and made sure he was safe. Was there ever a spiteful moment, when I gave safeguarding his health just to not have to stress about it. Where does my responsibility fall? And he is gone. In Springfield, Missouri, California, Illinois, I have no idea. He is just gone. And I see these photos-the good times, and I think of how I thought we would be together for ever-maybe not for love-but for companionship. And it was a comforting thought, warm and cozy and belonging. Until it wasn't. Until it was  fence I couldn't see over or around. Until it was a sentence of responsibility and duty. And I can't help but wonder-who broke first? Was not taking his medicine his way of starting down the path to freedom? Or was my giving up on nagging him my step down the path?

I don't know. 

But now I have to procure my own refrigerator.

  Even though part of me tries to shrug off all the hoopla that comes with the changing of the year, it is impossible not to get a little bit excited about the idea of a fresh start. I think a clean slate which is ready to be written on again, is just something that appeals to us hopeful humans. 

    I have been thinking about the areas of my life that I struggle with, and the areas I want improve upon. These are non-related to work. Of course, I have things I want to improve upon at work, but this isn't the place for that discussion.

    After a lot of thought and soul-searching I can sum up my areas of focus as the following:

• Eating healthy
• Sticking to a budget
• Interpersonal relations
• Keeping up my home

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