Somebody Gave Me Life

It is my birthday, I turn 44 today...

I turn 44 today!

Well-meaning people often ask why I tell my age, unprovoked. Apparently, that is supposed to be a closely guarded secret because a lady never tells her age and dress size. I am still wondering why anyone decided I am a lady. I am a grown woman, I can say what I want. But the real reason is that old age is a privilege given to a few. My mother died at 47. We lost her only sister a few weeks ago at 48. 

My cousin and I were chatting a few days ago and he mentioned that most of our uncles and aunts died pretty young. People are living to 100 now without much intervention, so to die in your 40s is an anomaly.

Life is about more than just living long though. It is about experiences and what you can learn from them. We have the benefit of looking back and things become clearer, sometimes memorable. 

In my 44 years in this sometimes good but also wicked world, a few things have become clear. I want to share some of them with you.

He is just a man. Your father, your mentor, your husband, the love of your life, that man you think is everything. He is just a human being and sometimes not a good one. The love and adoration you have for him make him larger than life.

Death keeps happening. I think that is the most cruel thing about losing someone. They keep dying. When you go to sleep, in your dreams, they are alive and every morning you wake up. And you lose them again.

Your mother had sex. Yuck! I cannot get over this. Especially when I think of the things I do and the fantasies I have, I say to myself, “my mother was a human being and probably had these feelings!” All jokes aside though, you finally realise your mother was a woman. Flesh and blood. My mother was just like me. She wanted nice things, had the same or worse fears, and just wanted to be content. I have a deeper understanding of her now and how she sacrificed a lot to be a good woman. And the more I think about it the more I am determined never to be good. Not at the expense of my life and purpose. Fuck everyone. Respectfully.

No one is coming to save you. No one. They cannot. They will not. Figure it out. Ask for help. The bulk of the work is yours to do. Change the habits. Limit access to you. Research better ways to live. Do you. An old woman recently said to me not to worry about what I will eat or how I will live if I am doing what brought me here. I instantly remembered that verse in the bible that I have never liked. Of course, the birds do not worry about what they eat, they cannot think! But I finally got it, do what you love and it will be the hobby that pays you.

Helping others is for your soul, based on your inner conviction. You help someone because you know what it feels like to be in a situation of lack. You give because you feel better when you alleviate suffering. It is not a tangible ‘reward’ but an important one. To you. You do not help because it will come back. It will not. Homeless people help each other daily, and so do the poor and those in war-torn countries. Nothing changes for them physically. (Please do not tell me, “At least they are alive!” Grow up.)

We take life too seriously and we also take life for granted. There must be a balance, they say we will not get out of here alive, but while we are here, we can enjoy ourselves and positively impact those important to us. That is how we live forever. When they keep mentioning your name. You will have a reason to keep coming back. Choose what is important to you and do your best. Hold those dear to you and experience life together.

I feel I should mention that life is not always what we expect it to be. It is just life. We have no control. So tell your loved ones that you love them often, but also reach out and let them know that you understand that life happens. Sometimes they are busy, sometimes they want to be alone or maybe sometimes you get into a tiff and you need time to cool off. Tell them it is ok, because you may die in the midst of the tiff. You do not want them to feel guilty about doing life things, like being angry at you or too busy with their children to call back when you died.

As an older woman, I find that the most commonly used insult against me is ‘old’. I laugh because do you know what my 20s were like? I never want to go back, please. I mean, if I came back, I would ask if I could skip to my 40s. There is a lot of freedom and joy in being older, I feel sorry for those who think mentioning my age will make me feel bad. I am proud of my years, I have been through hell to get here.

Being good to family does not mean we have to get along. I have gone through too much to tolerate the toxicity that can come from family. I can be good to you by not sabotaging you and fair to me by staying away.

Forgiveness is overrated. If you can do something about it, do. It will make you feel better, you will heal faster. Letting go does not always empower you. This is especially for women who suffer at the hands of domestic partners. (I am saying that if you get a chance to beat him, please take it. Do not kill, just touch him a bit.)

I cannot stress this enough, learn to enjoy your own company. Become completely obsessed with yourself. Your choices will change after this. Not because you do not need anyone, you need people, but because you can wait for what is good for you. The fear of being alone is where most of our problems stem from.

Life does get easier as you grow older because you decide what will take up your energy.

As I start my new year, I wish you a wonderful new year, filled with wonder and touched by peace.