I've been in my "new" condo a year and a half this month. My old kitty, JJ, died two years ago next month. It's weird - time just keeps going. It's been 11 months since I had my last surf. It's been just over three months since I got my current job. I turned 43 last month. Crazy. The first time I mentioned my birthday on this blog (although the blog was called something else back then) was in 2005 when I just had turned 34 and was living in Japan. Time, you are a thief.
Aging is crazy. I like it ok, I guess. The physical toll, of course, is hard to deal with. There's a lot of disappointment in realizing that I'm not just tired or overworked; this is my face now. This is my body. These are my weak wrists and my aching knees. I have to let go of ideas or ideals over and over. I think I still harbor slight "waiting for the big thing to happen" tendency that isn't helpful or realistic.
I feel lonely a lot. I am alone a lot. I feel confident that this isn't how we are meant to live. And yet . . . here I am. I've struggled with depression the last few years, which I'd never previously even felt for a day, so that's been an adjustment. It's like learning to live with a roommate you hate.
I feel hopeful. At times. Although it seems whenever I start feeling good about the future, some kind of smackdown comes. But what is hope if not still believing, even then?