It’s eve of the big 5-0 for me. I haven’t really focused on the significance of turning 50 for most of the past 365 days. Getting through year 1 of the pandemic took so much of my focus that I didn’t even get the chance to gear up for 50. Now, 50 is almost here, and I have an adventure in mind for the next 365 days. It’s time for me to figure out what 50 means for me.

The ideas for blogs, articles, posts, etc. come and go for me on a daily basis. There are a multitude of subjects that I want to explore. For one thing, I have so much about my marriage and divorce that I want to share, dissect, process and move beyond. I’m still trying to come to terms with those 10 years that seem like a waste of a good decade at this point.

It’s funny, my birthday is a reminder of the worst relationship of my life when it was always the best day of every year up until the green came in. My parents have always made a big deal out of my birthday. None of those audacious gatherings parents throw their children these days. No, just my parents, my siblings, and a homemade lemon cake with lemon icing, candles from the grocery store that were used for all of our birthdays for what seemed like years, lights off with my aunt singing Stevie Wonder’s Happy Birthday song, and me smiling like it was the best day of my life. And every year, it actually felt like the best day.

When I started dating him, we bonded over having birthdays so close together. Before him, I hadn’t really had a birthday with a sig-ot, so as our relationship progressed, and we made it to my birthday, I was excited to see how he would celebrate me. He was big on over the top gestures, so I just knew I was going to finally be celebrated by a non-relative. And then I learned that his sons were starting football on my birthday, and that was that. I told myself that I understood, and that it was no big deal, and we would celebrate another day. We didn’t.

The next year, the same sort of thing happened, by then I was used to where I stood in relations to the children’s schedules, and we ended up doing a joint celebration that focused mostly on his birthday. I was still celebrating with my family, so I didn’t really allow myself to get down on the fact that my birthday was not that big of a deal to him.

After we got married, we would travel around our birthdays at first, but eventually the business or the children would require his attention, so I stopped expecting an acknowledgement of my birthday by him. The last birthday I endured with him ended up in the police being called, and me barricading in my room out of fear. The next 2 birthdays were spent going through the rigors of divorce.

Now, I’m so happy when I get to be around people that care about me on my birthday. And I make a point to only spend time with the people that genuinely care for me. That’s a small but mighty group that has walked with me through the toughest and brightest times in my life. They remind me of what I mean to them, of what I am worth to them, and they celebrate my quirks. They are my family, some by birth and some by choice, and I am deeply grateful for them.

And so I begin year 50 as a grateful to be loved and grateful to be free adventurer. Let’s see what’s in store.