Today is my 39th birthday. The last year in this decade. I have been really having a difficult time in the last month or so, not because of this looming birthday, because I don't really care so much about age and numbers, but because...I don't know exactly. I can't quite put my finger on it.
It could be because for the last 17 years I have been living almost constantly in a loop of trying for a baby, or pregnant, or nursing, and now I have nursed my last baby and have stopped trying. I mean, yeah. Of course, it makes sense...I can't get pregnant on my own and going through treatments at age 39 when I have 5 living children just seems ridiculous. But then...who am I if I'm not trying for a baby or taking care of one???
I have this constant, anxious feeling. It may be time for some new ink or to drastically change my hair. Maybe I can find a way to channel all my energy into actually losing weight. I don't know. But I know that I feel weird and jumpy in my own skin. It is like all at once I feel like I have everything I need, but something is also missing. Or off. Maybe restless, even.
The past couple years have been really hard. I have put myself last for so long, sometimes not even making it on the list. Maybe it's time that changes. I have started by setting up some dinners out with friends. To reconnect. To breathe. To remind myself of who the hell I am apart from everything else.
So this is 39. If feels like such a strange place to be.