Just turned fifty-five.
Each year at the anniversary of my birth, I usually take a personal inventory. This year, I came to realize that my personal war over the last five years is coming to a close. Though I haven’t ceased grappling over the reasons why I felt victim of other people’s need for revenge just as I revisit what felt like a high degree of intentional emotional pressure. Warranted or not, I did learn that it is what it was and there’s no changing that, and those who participated in doling out pain through betrayal and stonewalling are genuine hypocrites and overall toxic folks.
For five years I actually fell victim to my own low self esteem and worried whether I was liked or not. I learned I wasted a lot of energy due to my own short comings, but I guess that’s just another thing that makes me human.
The lesson which bloomed from many experiences within the last five years is simply the phrase, “To err is human but to forgive is divine.” Rings more true now than it ever did before in life. Generally because holding on to grudges of any kind wastes so much valuable energy and positive endorphins. However, I feel it must be said that there seems to be an enormous amount of people or enjoy the company of those who share in their same misery.
Although this particular birthday has me feeling strangely tired and rather aged, this year may be a perfect match in numbers and internal spirit. I look forward to seeing what fifty-five will bring. I may find myself alone quite often mainly because I don’t always do things right. My husband expects a wife to always attempt to do things “right.” He is emotionally long gone and for each day I am closer to death simply brings him a great sense of relief and something to look forward to (inheritance and being free from me).
Being disliked isn’t much fun. Being fifty-five is. Ultimately, feeling lonely is not gratifying; however, my time spent alone is not so bad. The real truth is, if I can do it, anyone can do it; that is, flying solo. Don’t be scared—none of us are alone. It’s just that sometime we made the mistakes of allowing the wrong people into our lives.
It’s hard to end an essay like this one, because I’m not dead yet. I’m awfully lucky though, I’m charging on, and I can’t wait until I can take inventory of my fifty-sixth. You can, too. None of are as alone as we think we are, and most definitely, none of us are unique.
