. . . halfway to dead. Yeah, I'll be 40 on Sunday. Being 39 for the past year has felt a bit like a joke - 39 is the age people say they are when they are really 40.
Have you ever tried to contemplate your own mortality? It's a weird concept for one's brain to grasp. It's hard for me to picture my life without me in it. I've dealt with medical issues most of my life, so it's hard to predict what will take me down. I've read that skin cancer is what kills many people with albinism, and since I also have no pigment in my skin (because of vitiligo), I'm putting my money on that. You know how when some people have a serious illness and everyone who knows them says, "He'll never quit. He's a fighter!" Well, I'm pretty sure that when some colossal malady strikes me, those who knew me will remark, "Yes, I'm hardly surprised. She was a giver-upper from way back."
But enough about that. First, I need to live long enough to find out what this kid of mine is going to become. I think it's a little schmaltzy to say that I want to see her "walk down the aisle" because I am not overly concerned about that (though I'm sure I'll be my son-in-law's worst nightmare). I have a deep need to see who she is going to be. I really think my daughter is going to do something extraordinary with her life. I feel absolutely certain of it.
I suppose this is the time when I'm also supposed to reflect on my own life to date. I'm only vaguely traumatized over this turning 40 business. Many of my Facebook friends are also members of the Class of '88 and it's been funny/interesting to watch each of my classmates turn 40 in turn. Some take in stride, some deny it, some wig out a little. I may have a minor meltdown on Sunday but nothing overly dramatic. I think it would be much harder had I not found a way to become a mom five years ago. I still feel lucky every day, even on days when she tells me that if I don't let her have a second fruit snack she "won't be my daughter anymore!"
My only true regret is that I've never been published. It's my own fault, of course. It's hard to get published when you don't submit anything. Being a published writer and being fearful of rejection are mutually exclusive. You can be one or the other, but not both. Self-publishing via a blog works well enough to stave off my angst. Now if you people would just send me some money every month we'd be all set.
We had originally hoped to go to Vegas for my birthday, but we were unable to plan a trip because my job was up in the air until last month. So, we are going to a nearby resort for the weekend instead. A romantic weekend for three (yes, our suite has two bedrooms). I've scheduled myself a massage for Sunday morning. If you've read my blog for any length of time, you know I have issues with pedicures and massages and the like. But, I'm going to give it my best shot, to see if I can get through it without needing therapy afterward.
Old lady out