It’s Christmas! A day that should be filled with love and joy, happiness and laughter. A day spent with family and loved ones celebrating whatever it is that you choose to celebrate this Christmas morn.
And I woke up at 0 dark thirty with one thought echoing in my head.
“One month from today, I’m going to be 40.”
Merry Christmas to me.
Birthdays don’t usually affect me one way or another. It’s just another day. But this one feels big. Like somewhere, someone has a really sheet and I’m afraid they’re going to realize that I’m lacking in adulting.
I don’t really deserve to be 40. I look around and see my younger friends who are married, some have children, some have bought their homes. They have careers, goals, dreams. And me? I look back over the past 20 years and I can’t see what I’ve accomplished in my life.
I don’t own a home. I just bought a car from my parents. I have no kids except for my cats. I’m divorced. Marriage wasn’t my thing. I don’t have a career; I barely have a job for 5 hours a week. What on earth did I spend the last 40 years doing?
I went to school. I graduated. I did theatre and I excelled at it. I volunteered. I helped people. I turned strangers into friends into family. I earned a lot of character points making stupid decisions and having to fix them or living with the consequences. I earned style points for not giving up no matter how badly I wanted to. I survived.
That feels like an accomplishment to me. I survived. And every day that I survive, I’m a stronger person. I add XP to my sheet. Poets will never know my name and musicians will never sing about me, but I’ve survived.
Will that carry me through the next month without regrets? Will simple survival be enough when attacked against the accomplishments of others? Is it enough?
I think it will have to be.