Facing Fifty

Facing Fifty

In 32 days, I turn fifty. It’s a month and one day from today, in case 32 days isn’t precise enough for you. 

I have an interesting relationship to my birthday: A part of me believes it should be a national holiday while another part doesn’t think to make plans until I find myself in the week of.

I’ve watched this one advance for months.

I knew this post was coming, too. Although now that I’m in it, I’m questioning the direction it should take. 

My head tells me that it should be about my insides. My feelings. Fifty is a milestone, afterall. Am I content? Successful? Fulfilled?

But my heart keeps circling back to my body, which is how I know it’ll be impossible for me to describe turning fifty with any honesty if I don’t start with what you see. Or what I try hard for you not to see.

And it’s going to be truth. Not some watered down version of what I think I should share. 

I’m giving you all the details about my experience as I face 50.

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This is why you're still single

This is why you're still single

I just spent an hour researching the search term, “why you’re still alone.” I’ve never seen a topic riddled with more apathetic answers devoid of encouraging people to take personal responsibility in all the years I’ve been blogging.  Here’s a sample of what I found during that hour of my life that I’ll never get back:

“You just haven’t found the right person yet.”

“You’re being selective – it’s a good thing.”

“You have standards.”

“You’ve been hurt and you’re defensive but it’s ok.

“You haven’t made it a priority.”

“Real connections are rare.”

Really?

So I guess I have to be the bearer of truth and tell you the truth about why you’re still single.

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The worst thing a friend ever did to me

The worst thing a friend ever did to me

Today I found myself recalling an old wound – one I hadn’t thought about in years.

A client told me, tearfully, about how hurt she is over having lost a childhood friend several years ago.

Her friend didn’t die. She stopped responding to her.  With no explanation.Which got me thinking about a time in my life when that happened to me.

It happened twice, actually. A decade apart.

Both times a ‘best friend’ left me swimming in unanswered questions because she lacked the integrity to prioritize our relationship over the momentary discomfort she would have to endure to tell me what I’d done (or failed to do) in the relationship. 

I’m going to tell you one of those stories and I’m going to use her real name because frankly, since she couldn’t be bothered to say goodbye, I can’t be bothered to think of a pseudonym.

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