Dear Diary – My Birthday Is A Big One

Dear Diary: My birthday is in a month and  I’m going to be 50. It’s a big one! That’s half a century behind me. (There’s food for thought!) My life so far has been an interesting journey.

The world was so different when I was born in West Allis, Wisconsin, in 1970. It was crazy, but not the same type of mania we have in the world today. Disco was popular, and so was bell-bottoms.  Our small family lived over my grandmother’s tavern.

1975 I was five years old, and a cute little girl. I started kindergarten and the beginning of my school years. My three sisters had been born so now we were four. The nation was already in high gear preparing for the bicentennial to happen the following year. Everything was red, white and blue.

The Eighties

In 1980, I was ten years old. Two more children, both boys this time, were born into the family. Around this time my father suffered a heart attack, my mother had two miscarriages, and my grandfather died.

By now, I was beginning to withdraw into a world of words. I wrote poetry, stories, and journal entries filled with confusion, angst, and wonder. I immersed myself every chance I could into the world of books, especially Trixie Beldon, The Hardy Boys, and Nancy Drew.

1985. I was fifteen years old and going through all the insanity of the teen years. I was a high schooler! The music of the eighties was unforgettable. I met my best friend, Kristie, and lost touch with my friend, Maria. My attention was focused on books most of the time. If I wasn’t studying a textbook, or reading a library book, my head was buried inside a notebook with a pen writing sappy poems of love and loss.

Finally A Legal Adult

I turned eighteen in 1988. That was a big one. I was now a legal adult, but I didn’t feel any different. I was preparing for graduation and an uncertain future. As much as I wanted to go to college to be a teacher, money was an obstacle. Instead, I needed to find a job to learn to support myself. My best friends were still my books and notebooks.

Another big one came in 1991. It was the big 21. I was finally able to drink legally. My parents never cared if I drank with them, but I was never drawn much to alcohol. I’d seen too often what it did to people. I had a couple of drinks with co-workers, but there wasn’t much celebration. Besides, I had too much responsibility. My father had died two years earlier. I had to step into his shoes. My siblings needed me. My family needed me.

The Love Of My Life

The day of my birth in 1995 was just days before I met Dan. We hit it off immediately and started our life together very quickly. I was 25, a quarter of a century. It feels insane to think that was half my life ago now.

I have no memories of my thirtieth birthday in 2000. It was not a big one. Many women (and men) feel some kind of an emotional jump when they reach thirty. It’s a transition from the craziness of early adulthood into responsibility. 30 serves as a reality check for many. It didn’t for me. It was just another day. Most likely I did something with Tina. She and Jason and the grandkids were a huge part of my life at that time. I started working at Cardinal TG this year. We had just survived Y2K.

A Party For A Big Year

There was a party for my 40^th birthday in 2010. Again, this should have been a big one. Forty is another year that seems to bother a lot of people when they hit it. Again, it had no emotional effect on me. It was nice that everyone remembered me and celebrated with me, but the fact that I turned 40 really didn’t mean much.

That was ten years ago already. Honestly, it feels like much longer. I’m not the same person I was at that fortieth birthday party any more than I am the same person I was at 25 or 18 or 10. We all change with time. Sometimes we grow. Sometimes we fall backward, but we always change in some way.

 Beginning Of The Crone Years

And now, I’m going to be fifty. This IS a big one. And, I think for the first time in my life, I’m feeling the difference in age. For women, fifty is the beginning of the crone years. We’ve had our youth and then our fertility years. The crone years are the wise years.

By fifty, we’ve experienced life, taken risks, learned our lessons and came through the forest to the other side. These are the grandmother years. Instead of asking the questions, we are answering them – except in our own lives.

We still ask ourselves the important questions: have I done enough in my life? Have I made an impact on the world? What things do I want to do before I die? How can I improve my life and the lives of those around me?

This is where I am this year. I’m going to be 50. And it’s a big one. I’m asking all those questions, but I also feel the courage (finally!) to act upon my desires. I want to realize my dreams and finish my goals.

There are books in me that I’ve been wanting to get out into the world. I have a lot of paintings waiting for me to get them out of my head. There are still lessons to be learned and I’m ready to learn them.

50 is not the end of life. In my case, it might just be the beginning.