Reflections on 63 Years Young

Another day. Another year. Time passes so quickly. I have learned to cherish every day.

While I still read the occasional self-discovery book (Complex PTSD: From Surviving to Thriving, Pete Walker, my latest read and a good one), I do feel just about there. And where is there, anyway? Well, it’s happy, as defined by me, myself and I. Settled. Accepting. Peaceful. And ever so grateful.

For the most part, I have forgiven my parents. It certainly became much easier after they passed, although it still took years. They did what they could while juggling their demons, which were many, and it wasn’t all bad – after all, here I am. My journey of self-discovery and confidence wouldn’t have ended in such a good place if I hadn’t traveled through those years. While I still flashback, with sadness and anger, the frequency decreases all the time. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger and all that – I’m sure I’ve said that before. And current life? It may not be chock full of exciting adventures and new things, but it is ever so comfortable, and I love it. My house – my garden – a sanctuary where I feel safe, secure, and in love with the world. Every day there is something to marvel at – a crocus, a bird, a sunset. My partner of 21 years today, someone who knows and understands me better than anyone ever has – such a gift to learn how to share. My daughter – a newer and much improved version of me – who has created a beautiful family herself and who continually makes me so deeply proud. My circle of friends and family who continually reaffirm that there are really nice people out there in the world. My hobbies which make me both fulfilled and happy.

Life is short, yes, but I’m learning not to fret about endings, and to revel in the moment (just checked the Oxford definition, got rid of the drinking, but let’s dance), to learn to relax and to stop worrying about things over which I have no control. It is what it is, and it’s pretty good if you allow it to be.