Happy Birthday To Me

Wow. I'm 33 years old.

I never thought I would last this long. When I would write in my journal at the tender ages of 14-18 years old, 32 was 'the age'. I was positive that I would die before I was 32 years old. It was just something I knew in my heart that would happen. In a way I felt it was something that deserved to happen to me. So needless to say my 32nd birthday last year was really strange for me. I don't really know how to explain it. I just feel like I'm not meant to be here sometimes. But yet here I am.

This last week I've started having my recurring nightmare again. It's the same one and the only one I can remember having had since I was about 6 years old. I'm staring up at the Statue of Liberty and then my dream flashes me to being on top of a bunch of mattresses stacked up with what seems to be a million blankets on top of me. I can't breathe. The blankets are all tucked in around me and I can't move. I just see the the arm and the face of the Statue of Liberty. And then I wake up. I'm sweating and hot and panicky. Then I realize it was just my nightmare again. Why do I keep having this nightmare? Usually I have this nightmare a couple of times a month. But here it is. Daily now. It's been 25+ years and it's still there.

On the flip side, I love myself more than I ever did at 14 or 18 or 25 or 30. I'm actually liking me more as the years go by. I'm a better person than I was last year at this time. I guess that's all I can try to be. A better person. More forgiving. Gentler. Kinder. And happier with myself.

You know, sometimes this growing older deal is quite nice. Stray gray hairs and all.

I hope you all have a great day today. It is a Friday after all. Oh, and it's my birthday. So enjoy yourself.

Cheers to this being my best year yet.