F FIFTY
Well, here I am roughly 6 weeks post the big day and I’m
finally feeling like I'm ready to put closure to this journey – or at least the
written part of it. I wasn’t sure that this was going to happen and honestly
even as I type I have no idea whether this post will ever get to you. So for
the moment I’m going to keep writing for myself and see if it becomes something
I want to share.
The other day, on a perfect fall walk the title of this final
chapter came to me. Of course the expected F
word was the first one that came to mind, but there are so many more that could
fill in the blank. For starters, I am Finally
fifty, or for some of those who followed my August activities, I am Finally done with fifty. I could also
say that I am Forgetting fifty,
enough with this seemingly pointless journey to nowhere. Or maybe, I am once in
for all, Facing 50. Either way, pick
your favorite, the result is the same. It was a good run, I learned a lot and
now it’s time to move on to the next adventure.
I was explaining this blog to someone new today and shared
with her that what started out as a an outlet for me to express my creativity
and exercise my mental muscles turned into something that I was totally
unprepared for. The early days of writing were frenetic; I could hardly sleep
with the excitement of what I would write about the next day and spend the rest
of the day finding stolen moments to regurgitate my thoughts. I’d write and
read and re-write until it sounded like me; the me I wanted you to know. Some
days were the honest thoughts that went through my head and others maybe had a
little more spin on the truth than was necessary; not sure who I was trying to
convince, me or you. As the months went on the anticipation turned to anxiety. I would close my eyes at night and stress over
what the next day’s post would be – did you want funny or sad or reflective or that
magical combination of all three. What began as a quirky project to mark my
midlife passage evolved into something that felt pressured or expected - both counterproductive
to the original plan. Looking back it was a good barometer of my life; the
silent gaps as memorable to me as the verbose months. When I do find the need
to go back and revisit old posts they still make me laugh and cry. I don’t
think I’d change a word even if given the chance to edit or add a postscript. It
is interesting to discover that as much as things change there is comfort in
their sameness. Last year’s Brisket Blog could have been repeated verbatim last
week. I will still cry on the anniversaries of all the losses that have shaped
my life, still get cranky at the DMV and still get annoyed when Jeffrey uses “nice”
as an adjective for my appearance. I can also say with complete certainty that
there will be unexpected moments of joy and fear and laughter, and I look
forward to both the continuity and the chaos of the days ahead. There are
plenty of other stories I wish I had taken the time to tell and others I am
thankful I kept to myself. I am still motivated to write, these words flowing
easily and happily to the page. I hope that someday I’ll come back in a new way
with maybe with a new perspective.
It is sort of fitting that I’m writing this final post on
the eve of Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement for the Jewish people. Tomorrow I
will stand in temple before g-d (my new birthday shoes will be put to the test each
time the Rabbi proclaims “let us rise”) and silently reflect on this past year.
I will ask for forgiveness for my sins and hope to be sealed into the book of
life for the year ahead. I will have plenty to think about and plenty to ask
for forgiveness for – but I will also have a clear heart that my intention is
never to hurt or do wrong. I am not perfect, certainly a work in progress for
all my years ahead. But in the grand scheme of things my virtues outweigh my sins,
and at the end of each day I am the only one who has to believe in that truth.
This Journey to 50 has been quite a trip but I am ready
for it to end. I had an interesting discussion with my son about life as a
rollercoaster the other day. His metaphor boiled down to always being scared at
the beginning, afraid to start, but once buckled in and cruising through the
ups and downs it ends up being pretty exciting. No one is ever afraid at the
end of a ride – they may not want to ever do it again, but they survived and more
often than not the reality was far less painful than the expectation. If nothing
else you can be proud that you did it. Finishing something is always more
rewarding than never starting, and quitting in the middle isn’t an option on a
rollercoaster and often equally as dangerous in real life. He’s a smart kid whose
wise words gave me the courage to write this final post. I was scared to end
this or frightened I wouldn’t know what to say or how to say it. So I did what
he taught me to do, I stopped making excuses and just started. Now that I’m
done I’ll share that my knees are a little wobbly and although I may not
to want to ride this particular ride again, I’ll keep trying new ones because
life without the highs and lows isn’t really living. At 50 I have no clue where the roads ahead will take me. My father only had 11 more birthdays and my grandmother has celebrated another 47 and counting. I have no control on the quantity, but improving the quality is possible. At 50, I hope I've learned to stop
counting my years and focus instead on making my years count.
Thank you for listening and laughing and loving me (or not) –
it was a great ride…. Jill
