You know the kind of thought I'm talking about. The one that's lurking at the back of your mind, ignored and buried by the mundane details of the day. The one you don't mean to say aloud, because it's out of sync with the conversation. You regret it as soon as it's out, but you can't help but expound on it, explain it, making the interaction even more awkward.
People have been wishing me a happy birthday, understandably, for the last couple of days. Most of the time I respond with a simple "Thanks! It's been great!" and move on. But on the occasion where more details are called for, I start talking about how great it is to turn 49. How I'll be celebrating big over the next three years. How 49, 50, and 51 matter.
How my mom was diagnosed with ALS at 49.
How she died at 51.
What I don't say is how I'm nearing the end of my roadmap, trying to figure out how to fill in uncharted territory. How I can't imagine how my mother coped, facing a terminal diagnosis at this time in her life, because she kept most of those thoughts from me. How I've scheduled a complete physical for the first time in a long time, half-afraid of what may turn up. How I question every muscle cramp, every accidental choke on spit, every time I feel short of breath. How I look at the clutter in my house and think I really have to clean it up, just in case, so my family doesn't have a mess to deal with when I'm gone.
How I fight off those fears by planning the details of these years, like writing lots of letters and finally getting that motorcycle license, having drum circles and bring-on-menopause parties, and getting my third and final tattoo, the one that has to incorporate the number 51. How I bury those three ugly letters, A-L-S, under mundane details like laundry and work and meals and child rearing...and birthdays.
I am sitting here thinking how I would respond. Happy birthday seems obvious, but is it enough? You are a brave woman! Thank you for sharing these thoughts.
ReplyDeleteThank you for the birthday wishes, Jaana! What's odd is that I didn't anticipate these types of thoughts until I hit 51...and then the synchronicity of this birthday hit me like a ton of bricks. I have to say I feel a bit better, after getting it out "on paper".
DeleteI've heard that there are certain birthdays that are milestones for us - that we agonize over them until we pass them. The first one for me was my father's who died at 49. I breathed deeply after I passed that one. My mother had her first stroke at 68 - which is only 5 years away now. I could so relate to how you described writing letters, dealing with clutter. It's like a winging sword. We don't want to be obsessed but we can't help but think about our inheritance. Such a poignant post. Thanks for sharing.
ReplyDeleteBeverley, I'm glad I'm not the only one who get preoccupied with these numbers, even as I try not to be. I'm sorry 49 was one for you, too--far too young, as is your upcoming number. May you breathe easy then, too.
DeleteI really don't know how to comment on this post. I think you celebrate each day as it comes and try to focus on what you have, especially your health. Thank you for sharing such a personal post. I am in war of your honesty and your bravery.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Leigh Anne. I am usually a "realistic optimist", and have been called "annoyingly perky" by some, so this post is definitely out of character for me--just the reason that spurred me to write it down and let the thoughts fly. I'm sure by tomorrow, my posts will be back to a brighter theme!
DeleteThank you for sharing these personal thoughts on your blog. I can't imagine how you feel or what you are going through. I'm hoping that writing about it helps, even a little.
ReplyDeleteIt has helped, Aileen, though I hesitated publishing it, as it is not my usual tone. One recent event that inspired me to do so was the book Carry On, Warrior by Glennon Doyle Melton. She proposes that we need to show our vulnerabilities in order to truly connect with people, to move beyond the facade of a "perfect" life and embrace the messiness that is.
DeletePerhaps my favorite post. Thanks for this slice of your life and yet another great book suggestion. "Cheers!" to really messy lives.
ReplyDeleteThanks...it certainly has been the deepest, I think. And yes, get a copy of Melton's book! She funny and self-deprecating, and above all, real!
DeleteSuch a provocative piece...one that is universal. We all bury details...and numbers to make it through. I still bury 57 --- it is the age of both my mother's heart attack and her father's heart attack. I find myself doing the math, subtracting to find the sweet spot in years. Thank you for sharing this courageous piece; it is beautifully haunting. Keep rocking the years. :)
ReplyDeleteThank you, b; it will be an interesting two-plus years, to say the least. Got that physical coming up in six weeks...until then, I'm celebrating this birthday and making plans. :-)
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