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50

I’m 50.

That is so odd to say. I frankly never thought I’d ever be 50. When my older brother turned 35, he said that was the age he thought of as old. I didn’t have a number chosen at the time, but 50 feels very old.

I’ve been sober 10 years. I have 2 kids under 20. I was married for 20 years and divorced for 4 years now. I have worn glasses for 32 years. I have friends that I have known for 35 years or more. I have been mountain biking for 28 years. I have lived in 14 different places, 10 in the last 5 years. I drink 3 or 4 cups of coffee a day.

I have been very pensive about this birthday. That isn’t really because of the number, but rather the circumstances of my life right now. I am 50, sure. But I am single. I have seen my kids sparingly over the last several years (not by my choice). I have moved, yet again, and started a new job, yet again. I don’t know many people here and am feeling pretty lonely as of late. I stumbled pretty hard 5 years ago. I was out of work, out of the house, and beat up pretty bad. I have clamored back to a stand over and over again. I have a job. I have a little cash in my pocket. I have a roof over my head and food in the fridge. Don’t get me wrong, I am so very grateful for what I do have. I just miss being part of a partnership. That ended for my 15 years ago or so. I haven’t lived in a partnership, a true dynamic relationship. Now is that because I don’t know how or it doesn’t exist? I read books and listen to experts talk and they seem to think it exists. If it doesn’t, what a cruel trick to play.

Anyways, I am alone and isolated. I am 50. I feel sad, but not because of the number.

What I do have is 10+ years of sobriety, despite the stumblings. I have Hope despite the darkness. I have had to learn to like myself and I can be alone most of the time without being lonely. I have perseverance. I trust myself now. I know that I will get back up. I know that I can survive and be content with next to nothing. I know that I can climb back up. I know that when Lady Luck grinds her heel into my chest as I lay floundering on my back, I will rise again. I know that when I am beaten and tormented I will heal. I know that I have the capacity to love unconditionally in the face of contempt and despise. I know that I crave dynamic relationship and don’t have to settle.

I am 50 and have just begun to grow, yet again

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Posted by on April 26, 2017 in divorce, journey, Uncategorized

 

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moments in the Sun.

“Do or not do, there is no try,” He bellowed. He was the scariest fellow I have ever met. He is the scariest guy I call my friend. He said this as he used a 6 inch knife to remove a splinter from his finger. It was 10 degrees outside and he was wearing shorts. I have only seen him wear long pants once, it was zero degrees. He is one of those strong but not muscle head individuals. You can tell his build comes from hard work, not the pansy gyms I enjoy. He has scars and abrasions. He is crass. He swears and uses harsh and sometimes abrasive language. He buzzes like neon and you get the feeling he is constantly ready. There are times, I wonder how he sleeps with all the noise you feel oozing from him. My first impression was that this man might well have no heart. I wondered if he cut it out himself and ate it, protecting himself from emotions and making sure no one else could get to his heart. I wonder if it was still beating as he swallowed it whole, chasing it with a pint of ice cream.

And then he spoke. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t eloquent or in iambic pentameter. It wasn’t flowery or soft at all. It was direct and to the point. It was piercing. It was powerful. I would say it was straight from the heart, but I am still not sure he didn’t eat his heart. He spoke truth. It was riveting. It was powerful. It was humbling. It was motivating. It was laser focused on solution.

Years later, I would be in a different state, a different time, a different meeting. My head adrift with finding the perfect response. Planning an eloquent answer. Id seek to make eye contact to be called on and deliver the soliloquy. It would work and I would be chosen to speak. Suddenly, I’d feel a splinter in my finger that really wasn’t there. I’d flash on that knife and my legs would be cold. I would forget everything I had been thinking. It was as if I swallowed my brain. I spoke truth. I spoke from the heart. My soul echoed his words, “God is everything or He is nothing, whats our choice to be?”

 
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Posted by on January 13, 2017 in life, Uncategorized

 

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