Five Days in All of Me

I will be 32 in five days, which isn’t a momentous occasion. It’s not a special year like 40 will be. I am celebrating regardless. Any excuse to get some friends together and stir up some trouble. Maybe I haven’t grown up as much as I think.

This year has really been good to me, though. I am learning how to be good to myself. I’m reading, journaling, pole dancing, doing yoga…I’m taking moments to enjoy moments. I go to the river and sit. I grocery shop and prepare food! The last time I grocery shopped on a regular basis was when I had a small child in the house. I don’t know why I got so overwhelmed by the grocery store over the past few years. Anxiety? Yes. Failure to organize? Yes. Eating disorder? Also, yes.

My brain is still jumbled soup some days. I am a challenging person to follow, if you are trying to follow a train of thought. People don’t understand me. I don’t understand myself. That’s me. It’s better when I’m medicated, but I don’t believe it will go away.

I cried the other day when something reminded me of my ex’s son, though I haven’t seen him in four years. Losing that kid felt like losing a limb. I believe I will always cry over him from time to time. I think of him daily. My ex is married so he has a new mom, but I will always love him. I have feelings toward my ex which are not reconciled within myself- inadequacy and being used- the remnants of narcissistic abuse, the curse of the empath.

I have come a long way in my codependency. No one will ever use me like that again. I don’t have time for it. I am perfectly fine being alone. I crave my alone time when I do not get it. I’m very busy- too busy for shenanigans.

There are times when I want a baby and times when I cannot imagine bringing a baby into this volatile world. There are times when I think I will adopt to give a better life to someone who has already been brought into the world, and times when I believe I would be a terrible mother. It does not matter currently. I do not have an appropriate man with whom to reproduce, and I definitely do not have resources to adopt. Where would the baby crawl in my tiny apartment?

Ok, out from the rabbit hole we scurry…we emerge into the endless dredges of work accumulating on my desk…the documentation that persistently reminds me it needs to be completed.

In conclusion, I am excited for 32. It even looks good. What a good-looking number. You know, I never understood when people would tell me , ” oh, I wouldn’t go back to my 20’s.” Nothing magical occurred when I turned 30, nonetheless, I would not go back to my 20’s for all the moonbeams in the world. I don’t know who that was…20 something Claire. I might take her body though. She had a bangin’ body.

Last updated November 15, 2017