I think it's important for me to be completely forthright while working on this blog. Although, I am proud of myself for starting on this journey for peace, and I am excited every time I find a quote that seems to sum up my thoughts and feelings or gently guides me along- I would be remiss if I didn't discuss the "bends" in the road.
I'm not necessarily referring to the decompression illness that scuba divers may occasionally experience, however, there may be some corollaries, I'll have to think about that one. Instead, I'm talking about the shape of the journey. It helps me to think about my path as a physical thing. Maybe yours is a gravel path going through the woods, maybe it's a worn dirt trail up a mountain. My path looks something like a rural road complete with straight aways, tight s-curves and wide bends. The straight aways are a piece of cake. I coast down these, enjoying the vistas around me, letting my thoughts wander freely, no worries about what's ahead- because I can see for miles where my path is headed.
Now those bends are another story. Treacherous to navigate, difficult to gain perspective, only able to see right in front of you, these bends are full of anxieties. Is there something up ahead? Will I lose control of the vehicle? Can I fall off the edge? I found myself smack dab in the middle of a nasty bend this weekend. I turned 40.
All right, so turning 40 may not sound like that big of a deal, considering the plethora of much worse maladies that exist in our world these days- and it really isn't- and I really wasn't too concerned with it. But, that 's because I was on a straight away through most of my 30's. About 3 years ago I found myself in a series of s-curves that I thought I would never be able to best- but I did, or rather I am. Perhaps that's why I didn't seem to see this bend coming, blindsided if you will (the car metaphors just keep coming, who knew?).
I have come to realize that we are all either running from something or running to something. I found myself in mid-sprint this weekend, attempting to outrun middle age. I felt like I had suddenly found myself caught in a nightmare where you just keep running and running from whatever demon is chasing you- never getting anywhere. My husband kindly and somewhat naively asked me, "how you doing?" on the way to the restaurant- I couldn't answer because I knew I would melt like butter on a griddle. It wasn't about being sad that I was older, it wasn't about walking through the thresh hold into another chapter of my life, it wasn't about regrets of things I still had yet to do, it wasn't about missing people and things that I had let slip through the cracks in time, it wasn't about dreams and expectations lost- left behind in my 30's, it wasn't about trying to figure out the best way to mark such an occasion, it wasn't about watching and feeling the aging process at work, it wasn't about any of these things- it was about all of them.
Up until this weekend, I had felt like I was holding my own with this transition. Up until this point I had tip-toed up to the door way, poked my head in, look around maybe stuck a toe in to the "other side," celebrated and even helped others through when it was their time. But on Friday afternoon, instead of leisurely and proudly making my way across the thresh hold- I stumbled, fell- actually more like catapulted myself in to the next decade.
Were there tears? Not as many as there should have been. I tend to keep my tear ducts on lock down, rarely letting even one be shed- something I hope to address along my journey. So, to answer the crying question- there were oceans of tears, that started accumulating in my big toe, a tsunami of tears that swelled up until my whole person was filled to the point of a watery eruption. However, only a hand full managed to sneak out, while I wasn't looking- and as always, they came out at really odd moments- which only added to my thoughts that I might indeed be going a little nutty.
So, how did I get out of this "bend?" How did I evade the beast that is time? How did I navigate my way to the next straight away? The truth is- I didn't, my family did it for me. As I walked into the sweet fiesta that they had lovingly prepared for me (literally a fiesta with Mexican food and Tequila and flowers for our hair), and I saw 10 of the most beautiful faces smiling at me- I stopped running. Just as simple as that. I picked up the remaining pieces of me that laid strewn about, I put on a sombrero and took a swig of a margarita- and I could see for miles in front of me!
