Today is my birthday. When I Googled “age,” I learned that I am 17,897 days old. I can’t decide if that sounds older than half of a century minus one year, or just plain 49 sounds older. A friend suggested I go with “the 21st anniversary of my 21st birthday” but this would be shy by a few years and bumping it to the 28th anniversary would just sound stupid, so I’ll settle on the truth. Needless to say, by the time I finished thinking about the different options I decided it didn’t really matter how I said it, because I feel 24 in my mind. But either way it’s still cool to know how many days old you are, right?
The funny thing is that this number should really be more significant to my mom than it is to me. She’s the one who should be congratulated and celebrated today, after all. I’m a mom several times over, so I understand this. In fact, the past few years rather than waiting for her to call me on my birthday, I have been beating her to the punch and calling to tell her, “Thanks for having me (however many) years ago, Mom!” She usually giggles a little, asks if I’ve been drinking and then we talk about how confusing it is that I am “this old,” that my sister is, “that old,” and so on. It’s one of those predictable ironies that I don’t mind.
Walking around on this big green and blue ball for nearly 18,000 days has given me an opportunity to observe and learn a few things. It’s not surprising that it seems like my observations and education have accelerated since I lost my husband three and a half years ago. It’s almost as if I signed up for the “Evelyn Wood speed living” class, where life’s lessons come at you at warp speed and I’ve had no choice but to hit the speed bumps high and hard, with what has felt like worn out shocks at times.
Way back when, I used to think that my friends could only be women, and mostly women close to my age who I worked with because that gave us something in common to talk about like work issues, our children and husbands (or society) who might expect too much of us. But now I know that my friends are people who I truly connect with. They may be 20 years older or 20+ years younger than me. They could be women or men and have no hidden agenda other than enjoying each others’ company, sharing mutual love and respect, and understanding that life is not a game, so why spend it with people who are your best friend one minute and then a back-stabber the next?
I used to think that I had to make sure everyone around me was happy all the time. I was such a professional at this that I took it a step further and kind of obsessed over it, I’m not going to lie. At 49 I know that it’s not possible to make anyone happy but myself. Sure, I can help create better circumstances in some situations that I might have influence over helping to make some people feel happier. But actually make them happy? Not possible. This is one lesson that I wish I had learned earlier in life, as it would have saved me a lot of time and heartache worrying over why someone was sad or disappointed – and then trying to fix the hypothetical mess or disappointment that I didn’t create in the first place.
I used to think that whenever I messed up on something it was a) the worst thing in the world, and b) something everyone around me noticed like I had shot up a flare gun into the sky. I’m so glad that I know now that messing up is not the worst thing in the world – unless you’re the President and you accidentally start a nuclear war or something – messing up just isn’t that bad. Death and total destruction fall into the category of “worst thing,” – not missing a flight or spilling a glass of juice or a puppy peeing on the carpet.
For some reason I used to think that when I messed up on anything that everyone noticed it and thought I was a complete idiot for doing so. What I’ve learned is that it’s a rare time when even a few people notice that I screw something up, and when they do they are usually pretty forgiving because they have all messed up at one time or another as well. Perhaps this is where “Misery loves company” came from? For this reason I’ve developed the art of calling myself an idiot when appropriate. It comes in handy in building rapport among other idiots — and trust me, we are all surrounded by them!
I’ve learned that sometimes I feel like I want to “go back” – whether it’s home, or in time to a simpler place, or to an event in my mind’s eye. But usually there is something that’s tugging at my heartstrings when I have this urge. So the good news is that I do have a heart, and this makes me happy; and the better news is that I have some good memories I’m holding onto that I can conjure up, which makes me happier. What I’ve figured out is that it’s not that I actually want to revisit these places or times physically, but I want to hold on to the feeling I had when I was living whatever story was playing out in my mind at the time. These kinds of thoughts make me want to challenge any bungee jumper that my heartstrings are stronger than the bungee cord he might use to take a 300 foot head-first plunge off of a bridge any day.
I’ve learned that some of the sayings I used to believe in are not really true after all. Like, “Time is money,” – which sounds so efficiently profound, but the truth really is, “Time is precious.” And although they say, “Time heals all wounds,” — which sounds so compassionately right to the grieving, the truth really is, “Love heals all wounds, not time.” This I know from experience.
I’ve learned that a closed mind and a closed heart are as dangerous as a deadly disease. And having talent and skills is only a great thing if you are willing to share them with the world. Our job is to take all the gifts that we’re given like a nice suitcase full of goodness we get to pack up and carry along throughout life, and use them up as we go. Wherever we see the opportunity to make an impact with our talents and skills we should open up our bag of tricks and use them. It helps lighten the load as we travel along our fantastic journey, and brings joy to other passersby. The more we travel, the more we should share, with the goal of getting to the end of our trip with nothing more than a crumpled up boarding pass, an empty suitcase and a flickering memories of fellow travelers we might have impacted while passing others and sharing what we had.
I’ve learned that good things come when you open up your heart. Greater things come when you open up your life to possibilities along with that.
I’ve learned that everyone comes to occasional forks in the road of life. But when you get to that fork and just sit there you’re going to get eaten alive by indecision if you don’t choose one way or the other.
I’ve learned that everything happens for a reason. Before I understood this, I acted in a more “human” or what I like to call, “earthly” way, and tended to over think and rationalize everything. It made it easier to feel more in control and stay caught up in the drama of everything, whether it was the actual event that had happened or just the drama of telling the story of what had happened. In retrospect I know it kept me from actually experiencing my life and living my experiences. So once I had this epiphany and figured out that everything happened for a reason it was like someone changed out the 40 watt light bulb for a high intensity halogen bulb.
I’ve learned that people come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime. When you know which one it is, you will know what to do for that person, and how to be the best part of their life you can be at that time. Being real always allows greatness to reveal itself and watch amazing things happen.
I have learned that there are no coincidences, only synchronicities which are those occurrences that most people call coincidences. But being a believer that everything happens for a reason, you realize that coincidences are really just moments and happenings synchronizing to create your perfect reality. I used to question how it could be perfect if something painful had happened, but now I know that everything that’s happened in my life – every twist and turn, every in and out – have all aligned perfectly to create the life I’ve lived, up to this exact moment. So why would I want to change any of that and impact who I am? That would be silly – and essentially wishing to be someone else.
I’ve learned that life is too short. Not hypothetically or metaphorically or anecdotally in the context of a story either. Life is just too freaking short – plain and simple. And having been around just one year shy of half of a century, I’ve got a whole lot more learning to do. So bring on another 17,897 days, or 588 months if you want to change it up a little. I’ve got a lot of living left to do, so I should probably get started right away – because one thing I’ve learned is, “There’s no time like the present.”
Xo Shellitini © 2010
