Half A Century

Next weekend, I turn 50. I suppose this coming age is a milestone for most people. It certainly is for me, for several reasons. I won’t lie, I’m very disappointed we are in the middle of a pandemic and I can’t celebrate. Life is hard, and we don’t celebrate enough, especially these days. Turning 50 is a reason to celebrate. Why you might ask? Many are depressed or sad when they turn 50 – a half of a century. I won’t lie, I feel parts of that too. Regret and disappointment. However, I’m still here.

There was a time, especially in my 20’s and 30’s, when I did not believe I would reach this age. I had this firm conviction that I would die young. Maybe even by my own hand. Later, I learned this is common with trauma survivors. Maybe we believe we don’t deserve to live, or that bad things happen to us because we are “bad” or “broken” and so, we are bound to die young. Whatever the reason, deep down, I never believed I would see the age of 50. I even remember, right after my 30th birthday, I wrote up a sort of “living will.” In it, I put what songs I wanted to have played at my funeral, who I wanted to do the readings, what readings, and even my pallbearers. I put it all on a floppy disk and gave it to my mother. I don’t know if she still has it or not.

So now, I’m turning 50. When I was very young, I thought 50 was very old. I thought I’d have grandchildren and be with my husband, retired, traveling, and living in a beach house. None of that is true. For that, I do grieve at times. My life is nothing like what I dreamed of when I was a child. However, I am still here, which is something else I didn’t believe would happen. I’m doing a job I really love. I think I’m “paying it forward” from all of those that helped me. I hope my next 50 years or so, will be better than my first. So far, they are.

Celebrate more. Celebrate your life. It is a gift. It may not always feel like it. I know. But you can come out of the darkness, and emerge into a new and better life.