When I really sat down and thought about all of those things I have written about this week, trying to tease out the connections between – my need to love, the things I carry with me, my (lack of) relationship with my mother, I came back to a single and central point:
Today I turned 35.
Now, I have friends that had a crisis when they turned 30 or 40 or whatever age.
This isn’t a crisis.
But, there is a thing in turning 35. It isn’t that my life is half over – I fully expect to live my four-score and ten.
But 35 is a time to take stock.
So, the taking stock. I have a husband who loves me. I have built a family around me. I have a great many friends . I have a job I love, a job that brings me both great personal satisfaction and a good paycheque. I have a warm and comfortable house. I have animals that love me, even when they pee on things.
It’s been a good year. A hard year at times, to be sure, but a good one.
And I thank you, as I have pieced through this, that you have been with me.