I have a birthday today.
Truth be told I’m not ready for it.
When I was a little girl I used to cry when my birthday was over. My mother would always find me curled up on my bed filled with sadness. She would ask me why I was sad and I would tell her that all the ‘special’ was over. There was no consoling me.
Strangely, I’m still like this at most holidays.
The only difference now is that I tend to find myself in existential crisis before and during my birthday.
Yes, I realize that it’s a life celebration. And, I’d absolutely abhor the alternative. But I can’t help but feel as if I’m not quite there yet. You know?
Rationally I know I’m loved. I’m blessed with true friends. I have a warm home. A family that I adore and a puppy that is my heart.
But I long for more. Does that somehow make me selfish?
For the past few days I’ve been detached. It’s self-preservation at its finest. No emotion. It’s all stored away in a nice and neat compartment somewhere inside of me. To be unlocked and released, but when?
Oh yes and what about time?
I don’t understand it. It moves to quickly, so much so that I feel as if it’s taken my breath.
Where did the days, months and years go?
When did I wake up 40?
Why do I have turn 41?
Why won’t time stop, so that I can catch my breath, reassess and step back into the flow?
Will I ever feel fulfilled?
Can a spot of cake make it all better?
Candy Coated Musings... 