Well, I'm forty now.

I've been forty for five days now. Nothing is any different yet.

I'm okay with that. mind you. I really didn't want things to be different. 

Okay, some things maybe. Like, it would have been cool if I woke up on my 40th birthday and suddenly was a size six and could eat all the carbs I want and still stay a size six. I would have liked that particular surprise. 

Other than that? Nah.

It was a quiet day for me. Low-key. My cousin who is actually my sister from another mister surprised me with flowers (which made me cry) and my former Girl Scout leader and current Zumba instructor wrote messages to me on the Facebook that made me tear up (because: EMOTIONS), but other than that? Not much. I worked. We went for Mexican food (mine wasn't great, which made me sad). My son sent me a series of text messages about his homework and didn't remember to wish me a Happy Birthday until several hours later. Typical day.

That was okay. It really was.

I used to fear being forty. Not because I think it's old (because it's not, especially because that's how old I am now) but because my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer when she was forty. Also because I was very overweight and felt out of control with my health. I feared diabetes. I feared having a shortened life-span. I feared not being around for my children. 

I don't have those fears now. It's nice.

I had my mammogram in May and it was all clear. I had my check-up in April and everything was a-okay. I've lost 57 pounds since my 39th birthday. I've added many, many miles to my sneakers and, hopefully? Many, many years to my life.

My life is so far from perfect. There are many, many things that I don't talk about online (or very much at all, to anyone) that hurt me. There are so many things that just don't need to be broadcast. I keep those worries locked up in my heart. They keep me from sleeping sometimes. 

Overall, though? I am happy. 

I have a mostly quiet life, and I am happy.

I wouldn't want it any other way. 

My husband

My husband is not a perfect man. I have documented how imperfect he is throughout the years. I have spoken honestly about our struggles and how difficult it can sometimes be when two very strong-headed (read: stubborn) individuals come together and try to create a life. I've acknowledged how very different we are and how sometimes our differences don't mesh well together.

But you know...it doesn't matter. None of this matters.

What I know is we've been married for twelve years and three months and I love him.

I know that he thinks about me before he makes decisions. I know he does tiny little things for me all the time. Things like making up songs about me that he sings in a Barry White voice or busting out elaborate dance moves to 90's songs to make me laugh. How he picks a tiny flower out of the yard for me or leaves me a little love note somewhere in the house that he knows I'll be sure to see it. Nearly every single morning for the last two years he's quietly left a cold Diet Pepsi (and a big straw) on the nightstand next to my side of the bed so it will be the first thing I see when I wake up. 

Those little things add up to big things. 

Our lives are crazy right now. It's not unexpected. The children aren't children anymore really and between the four of us we have six jobs, two schools, and three cars to deal with. It seems like at least one of us is always going somewhere and family dinners where the four of us get to sit and eat together have become a rare treat. I appreciate these moments.

I appreciate my husband. I appreciate how he takes ideas and runs with them without hesitation. I appreciate our shared goals and dreams. I appreciate how he sends me things like this. Often.

Sometimes I feel like I have something really special with him, really different. I know, I know. I sound like every teenage girl who has ever been in TRUE LUV 4-EVAH.

But really, I do. I really think this way. I really feel like there is no one else on this planet I could feel exactly the same way about. I've never believed in soul mates as it relates to romance, but I do think, honestly, that what I have with him is very, very special.



I'm not a mushy person, but I really love this man. I am really lucky and I am really thankful.

Adulting 101

This morning I woke up and there was an email in my in-box from a co-worker that made me cry. (It wasn't a happy cry, in case that needs to be clarified)

It wasn't even that bad, as far as emails go (no swearing at least!), but it was rude and it hurt my feelings. It made me feel like crap. She had forwarded her message on another email from another co-worker who had basically thrown me under the bus and that hurt doubly, especially as I had always had a good relationship with this other co-worker. I thought.

This made me think of a quote I read recently:

Honestly, most of the time it just feels like a curse. I'm sure there is a blessing in there somewhere, but I don't usually feel that.

Instead, I feel like I'm broken.

I feel like there is something wrong with me. I wonder why small things hurt me so deeply. I hate this about myself, legitimately HATE IT, and yet I can't seem to help the way I feel.

I'll be forty next week. I keep waiting to grow up and be okay with all of this. I keep waiting to not take things like this personally. To have enough self-confidence to not let small things ruin my day.

I can't fix everything. Some days I can't fix anything at all.


Including myself. I'm not going to change.


That's the thing. I'm almost forty. I've been this way my entire life. I am not going to change. If I could, I would. In a heartbeat. I can't. There is nothing, absolutely nothing that can happen that will make me not be hurt when things like this occur. There is no magic switch on my back that I can flip and be like, "Oh, whatever." It's not going to happen. Ever. If you are born with this magical gift, I am envious of you. I don't have it and I never will.

I suppose I can focus on dealing with it better, but that's the only thing I can actually do. I can write down positive affirmations until the cows come home. I can tell myself that this is just one person and she does this to everyone and it's not really about me (even though it feels REALLY REALLY ABOUT ME right now). I can remind myself that my self-worth is not determined by something that someone else says. Even if that someone else is a co-worker or my husband or one of my parents or a child. I can say out loud to myself over and over, "Your heart is in the right place" or "You did this out of love" or "You are doing the best you can".

I can do all of these things.

But my heart is never going to change.