Forty years, 126 days

I have been forty years old for 126 days today. What is the significance of that, you might ask? Well, on the surface, absolutely nothing! However, if you will sit for a bit, grab a cup of coffee, chai tea, beer or whiskey (my preference), I will tell you what I have learned in those 126 days that I never allowed myself to do, realize or be in the prior 39 years.

First, for the first time in my life, I truly do not care what you think of me. Granted, I want to be liked and to be known for being a genuinely nice and kind person. But, if you think I am too nice because I stop to smell the flowers (literally), play with children in restaurants who are not mine or give someone a second, third and quite possibly a fourth chance at getting something right, oh well! You see, for the first time in my life, I realize that all of these things are your issue, not mine! I love flowers and will stop and sniff every single one if I want. I love children and have been known to stand in line for a port-a-potty in squelching heat with a frazzled mother for 45 minutes keeping her four year old content, while she tended to a fussy baby, just because I could and I wanted to. Thank God for a husband who loves me, because he stood there too and watched me play ring-around the rosy until I thought I would puke! And, yes, I believe in second chances. And, even third and fourth chances are warranted sometimes. I have been married, divorced and re-married, so obviously second-chances are my forte. It is called grace. I have received grace that I will never be able to earn, so I give grace knowing full well that I will get nothing in return from that person, and that is how it is supposed to go. All I receive is another chance at receiving and giving grace once more.

Second, it is okay to be something that others do not understand. I have hidden the fact that I have fibromyalgia for almost three years now because there are people I know that think it is a “fake” diagnosis. Well, tell that to my pain! I have never taken advantage of the fact that I hurt each and every day. I have never stayed home for pain or fatigue. I work through it. And, I will never not tell you that I have Fibromyalgia again, just because you think people use it to their advantage. Screw you! I am the face of Fibromyalgia and I look pretty freaking fantastic! I have also done things in my life that would make a sailor blush 32 3/4 shades of red!  Don’t judge. Like me, love me or loathe me for who I am today. Compassion and understanding go a long, long way, try it sometime.

Finally, I am tired of being a square peg that the world shoves, heaves and pounds into a round hole. I am square. Deal with it. I have tattoos. I want my nose pierced. I want a purple streak in my hair. I want to live downtown and not own a car and just walk everywhere. I want to swim naked in the ocean, again. I want to be a writer. I want to tell people all of the crazy, wild, sexual, spiritual, boring and even mundane moments in my life that have made me this crazy, loving, grace-filled woman who at the age of forty received a pair of wings on which I will fly.

So, if you don’t like me. That’s awesome. And, if you do, that is even better. Just don’t even think that you or any army can or will clip these bad-ass wings I earned after a full, crazy, sad, exciting life of forty years, one hundred and twenty-six days!


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