Well, today’s my birthday… 32 feels a lot younger than 30 did. So that’s a good thing.
I got lots of nice birthday messages from friends and this morning my husband smiled at me and said “Happy birthday babe. I love you.” It was really nice. I know that he meant exactly what he said, but it meant even more to me.
I heard the subtext. I heard, “I’m really proud of you for working really hard to stay alive to see this birthday.”
My birthday feels like a good time to reflect on the fact that I’m much more committed to being alive than I was a year ago.
But every day I still have to be so careful. It’s tiring to always be on alert. Get enough sleep, eat healthy food, take your meds, censor your actions, double check your thoughts, say that, you shouldn’t have said that, keep your job, brush their teeth, don’t let the crazy do the talking, take a shower, don’t walk there, put down the knife, smile, keep on pushing. Day after day. And then there’s the actual stress that most people have, take out the garbage, fix the sink, do the laundry,clean the kitchen…
I’m getting tired. My psychiatrist said I need to take some psychological space for myself. I googled it. I don’t remember what it said. But I’m stepping back a bit.
I don’t think that life will ever be any less exhausting for me. I guess that’s okay. I am actually enjoying this little life so I’m feeling pretty lucky for the people who are still with me on this ride.
There’s a Jewish birthday wish that says, “May you live until 120!”. That seems like a really really long time. I’m not so sure I’m up for that.
Let me work to get to 40 and then we’ll see. No promises.