Growing up I remember the countdown to my birthday being this huge novelty. It was so exciting and fun and I just couldn’t wait to become that one year older. I don’t have that feeling anymore.
And not because of aging, but because there seems to be a lack of reason to celebrate.
Last year I cancelled my birthday. I basically treated it like it didn’t exist. I was nursing a broken heart, so as it was it wasn’t off to a good start, and when left with the prospect of choosing something to do in celebration of it, I realised my idea of fun and what would make my heart happy was not something those in my life would indulge me in.
So I chose not to acknowledge that I turned 34 at all.
Now I’m about to turn 35.
Has anything changed.
I guess my attitude has changed. This year I’m being positive. I’m actually organizing an outing with friends. I figure if I put good vibes out into the universe maybe this year will grace me with some love and light. But I’m not putting all my eggs into the happy basket. Why?
You see over the years I’ve learnt that sometimes the one thing that gives you the most happiness actually is the same thing that hurts you the most. It hurts because you invest all that you feel in it. You give your everything and you put all your hope out there that it’s going to be all you wished for and more because you want to believe that for a sliver of time things will be perfect.
But they rarely are and that’s normal because what is perfect anyways?
I guess what I’m trying to say is I’m just going to accept the day and this new year of life as it comes. I won’t place expectations on it. Instead I’ll just have a little faith…that maybe…somewhere along the way…there’ll be some magic in the air and I’ll get that sliver of perfect when I least expect it.