Monday, November 07, 2011

Not getting any younger

Tomorrow I will be... 37. Pause there while I did the math. Funny how age becomes almost meaningless as I get older. When I was younger I don’t think I could have imagined that at some point I would have to stop and think about how old I was, how old I would be turning on my next birthday.

I had a bit of a jolt the other day when I was listening to the radio and somebody mentioned a favourite song that came out in 1974 (the year I was born). ‘It’s almost 40 years-old,’ he said and I nearly drove off the road. I know that 40 is getting closer, but I still don’t think of myself as ‘almost 40’ quite yet.

While I don’t exactly feel like a spring chick, it does feel strange to be 37 tomorrow, especially with some recent changes in my life that have me practically starting over, career-wise. Seems a bit late in the game to be still trying to figure out what sport I want to play.

A while back I blogged about my indecision over what I should remove from my heaping plate. Since then, the decisions I have made have not been easy nor clear-cut.
A friend of mine said to me, “well, you have to look out for number one.”

“I don’t think of myself as number one,” I replied. And I’m not trying to sound all self-effacing in that statement. I just mean that a mother and wife, as someone committed to certain causes and efforts, it isn’t really clear who is number one, or even what that means. I truly believe that the path to happiness and fulfillment does not come from putting one’s own emotional needs or desires at the forefront.

But at the same time, I am learning through trial and error that there has to be a balance in meeting my own needs and in giving of myself to others. I wonder if anyone ever perfectly finds the balance in this – and if there is someone out there who has, please share your wisdom with me.

Still so much to learn – and I am not getting any younger.

1 comment:

  1. Happy Birthday!

    Perfect happiness lies in complete enlightenment, or complete ignorance. The rest of us suffer somewhere in the middle. Darn bell curves.