Birthdays usually bring out my always-barely-beneath-the-surface nostalgia, but this year none of that wistfulness came. I feel good about where I’ve been and where I’m going, and if you’re able to say that about even a handful of birthdays in your life, well then count yourself lucky.
Thirty-three brought some important changes, most of which had almost zero to do with me, my efforts, or lack thereof. I found my tribe, or rather, I found a few of them. Behind computer screens, in the van in Sri Lanka, at a writing table in the park, people I didn’t even know I had prayed for came sauntering into my life. Having lived through the lean friendship years, I welcome this boon.
My kids are 3.5 and 1.5 and most days I’m still unsteady on my parenting feet. With both of my babies, the affects of hormones and sleep deprivation lasted far longer than I expected. While I’ve long been out of the actual fog, the weather has been far from clear. Pirate’s personality is so big and Pigtail’s so fun, The Gorilla and I finally feel like we’ve hit a family stride instead of just exchanging crazy eyes from across the trenches.
I’m learning to let things go in a different way than I used to. I’ve heard people who say that, that they’re “learning to let things go” and I could only relate to a point, I suppose. “Clinging to with all fierce and might” has been more my philosophy. But that only becomes a weight, so I’ve had to admit that about myself. Letting go will often produce the best outcome. But don’t quote me on that, because I’m still figuring it out.
On the flip side, God-given instinct is a miracle, is it not? I leaned heavily on instinct in all areas of my life until...well, I’m not sure when I stopped, but I suspect it was somewhere hovering around thirty. I got burned, or maybe I was wrong about a few somethings, and I stopped checking in with my gut. Lately I’ve been flexing that muscle again (the gut’s a muscle, right?) on everything from making purchases to shutting my mouth. It’s a daily experiment.
While thirty-three, I settled just a little more into my parenting skin, I strengthened my marriage, I was vulnerable in relationship, and I wrote a little better. There is not much more I could ask for out of a year, or out of life.
Hmmm....what I wrote when I turned 33. This is (one of) the great benefits of blogging, folks.