here's to turning 45

hello friends, it's been a minute.

i turned 45 on tuesday. that seems like a pretty good reason to put some thoughts on paper. or, for the first time in a long time, in print. there have been plenty of thoughts on paper this year. a few journals worth. time to put some of that out in the wide world again. why not?

forty five. forty fucking five. it's not that i never pictured getting here, i just kinda, never pictured getting here.

forty five means my oldest is 27 and my youngest is 22. it means i'm officially closer to 50 than 40. it means i'm undeniably an old. i mean. anyone with a birth year starting with 19 is some version of old. so. there's that.

 

forty four was a good year. it really was a great year. i started the year picking up sunday work at a crystal shop. CRYSTALS. i get to spend my sundays selling pretty things to people in a magical shop owned by a very smart business woman who is as kind and generous as anyone i've ever met. the sunday work was to pay for some medical care for stella. she gave me a good scare needing surgery for pyometria that also revealed a sex cord stromal tumor. that surgery was immediately followed by an antibiotic resistant UTI. whew. that was a lot of stress and a lot of cheeseburgers to take medication, but we made it through that and she’s still being the best little (well, 50 pounds) meatloaf ever. after the election, as with the world, a LOT of things shifted very quickly. i ended things with someone who had been an on and off again partner since 2017. it was time. a few weeks after that i switched my main job from the bookkeeping/spice store to a local independent bookstore. MY LIFE IS BOOKS AND CRYSTALS NOW. books and crystals. little me is so content. grown up me is a little worried about medical insurance, but overall it’s pretty amazing.

 

all the changes were terrifying. it was hard letting go of a partner who had been around since 2017. that's not an insignificant amount of time in my world. and the spice store had absolutely saved me at the end of seven months of unemployment and being literal days away from losing my apartment, my car, everything. they both had their place in my life. they both allowed me space to be myself, to put my life back together after empty nesting and covid and unemployment. to figure out who i am in my skin after the great mullet experiment. but it was time. and, as my lifetime trend seems to be: it's all at once or none at all.

BUT LOOK AT ME NOW BABY!!

as different as night and later that same night.

things look the same- same apartment. same little orange cooper. same chunky little meatloaf. same monday thru friday 9-5 (literally) desk job. well, and sundays 10-6. you get the gist.

but good heavens.

it has been a journey.

in the midst of *waves at everything in general*

it has been a hard journey. an intentional one. an uncomfortable one. a fun one. an adventuresome one.

do you know how hard it is to stay on point for a full year working 6 days a week, with no back up plan, when 85% of the time your brain is telling you that maybe existing just isn't for you? and the other 15% of the time it's stressing about finances? and the other 15% of the time it's wondering if you'll ever have a social life? while the other 15% of the time it's yelling at you for not doing enough- not working out enough, not reading enough, not going out where the people are enough, not learning enough, not fixing your own brain enough. while 15% is trying to keep the deep sads that fuck up your sleep schedule at bay enough to be able to keep a good schedule and make it to work every day? and the other 45% of the time it's a running commentary on all your flaws and all the ways you're screwing up and all the ways things are just waiting to come crashing down? i'm not sure, but i think that's more than 100%. which explains why i'm tired all the time. but my skin care is ON POINT, so you'd never know. 

not to toot my own horn, but *insert air horn noise* i do look good right now. i've mostly figured out my skin and acne is under control, finally. my hair has recovered from the mullet and the shaved sides and the horror grow out phases. there have been fewer box and can meals and more real home cooked meals. i've been walking to work off and on and some of (most of) my jeans are getting a little loose. not too shabby for 45 if i do say so myself. i even had someone hit on me at the bar the other night: he remembered me as the girl who worked at the bookstore who was really funny and smart and pretty. so. your gir's finally got it. just in time for perimenopause which i'm sure is just around the corner.

but things are going well. i HAVE kept it together the last year. i've made it to work all 6 days a week and even a few more than that. learned to keep a right reign on that real quick. a 6 day week turns into a 13 day week real quick and that's no bueno. i've keep my mental health in check. i’ve kept my schedule and my budget in check (mostly). i’ve taken my vitamins more than not and started drinking at least more water. i’m constantly working on how to process things in healthier ways. let go of some of the shame and the judgment and the constant critique. i've learned to allow the softness to take over. to be kind to myself. to lead with kindness (then match energy as needed). to just allow myself to exist in this world. to enjoy existing in this world. i've reconnected with cousins, i've had coffee with friends, i've had wonderful weekend trips and adventures. i've learned to appreciate good moments for the magical bubbles they are and to hold onto those. enjoy each bubble for what it is. appreciate the star and planet aligning magic that goes into making those moments. to be grateful for those moments above all. 

speaking of which: this has been a pretty incredible birthday week bubble. i went to missoula, montana last weekend as a sort of a half adventure half birthday trip. on my actual birthday, i went to a delicious steak dinner with my boss who showered me with lovely gifts. i am now the proud owner of a sloth ring and he’s exactly as magnificent as you’re imagining. last night was home made stew and pie with ice cream and a quiet night in watching movies and settling into the changing weather. this morning was a fantastic cup of coffee, nature documentaries, an extended everything shower and some left over cold pizza. not too shabby at all for old sherry.

i’m looking forward to 45. it’s a year of 9’s, it was the same calendar day as the year i was born, a tuesday. it was on the tail of a full blood moon lunar eclipse. that’s a lot of energy to start off a new year. it feels good. i feel good. the stories are coming back. the writing is coming back. i mean, look at me go! this is basically a novel after how long it’s been!

i have thoughts, ideas, things i’ve learned, things i am learning, and i’m learning to tell my inner critic to ease up and just put SOMETHING out there. if all you do is worry about who isn’t going to like what you have to say, you’re missing the point. write for you. easier said than done. i’m working on it. but it feels good to be back. here’s to 45. 

thirtyseven words

well, now that the ball is rolling, i may as well dump some of the *actual* stuff that's been rattling around my head lately.

i turned 37 a few days ago. my brother would have turned 35 yesterday. it's a weird time of year anyway- anniversaries i'm not keen to remember. getting older. weather changing.

this year it's particularly brutal.

i realized a while ago that i'm smack dab in the middle of possibly the most classic mid life crisis of all time:

the oldest child is out of high school and attempting to make his way in the adult world. he's 2 years older than i was when i had him.

the youngest child has started high school and is, almost frantically, searching for ways to be more grown up (not a bad thing- his list includes taking better care of himself/his clothes, maintaining grades for college, and a girlfriend). 

i sold my house, i quit my job, i bought a car because it's pretty, i've added to the tattoos, even took a trip to vegas. i have a pool, all i need is the pool boy and the mid life bingo boxes will all be checked.

i've been spending my days watching all the movies in my disney collection and spending money that i probably shouldn't be. BUT IN MY DEFENSE, I REALLY NEEDED THOSE TATTOO BOOKS.

not so long ago my oldest brother made a comment about my tattoos, hair color, being "one of those letters," i can't remember which. he usually is able to hit on all of them at some point in his notoriously short conversations. i remember this time thought that he referred to me as being rebellious.

"DUDE, i'm in my 30's. i'm a mom. WHO AM I REBELLING AGAINST?"

at a certain point, maybe, doubtfully, he'll realize that i'm just me. 

which made me think: how many "rebellious" teenagers are just people that managed to discover their true self early on in life and learned to BE THAT PERSON, even if it required struggle and labeling and misunderstanding?

when my oldest son was born the doctors and nurses laughed at my black nail polish- "...it's making the baby go crosseyed."

they laughed at the "phase" i was going through.

my son is now almost 20 and my nails are still black. 

that's a helluva phase.

i just wish i was as bold and sure in life as i have been about my nail polish.

i wasn't a rebellious teenager. i literally sat in my closet reading books as a kid (it sounds weird, but if they can't find you, they can't bother you). i went to church every sunday and wednesday without arguing. i did dishes and kept my room clean. i did my homework and maintained a decent GPA.

now, that's not to say i didn't have a rebellious streak- i quit piano lessons because the assholes kept shoving me in competitions playing classical music when all i wanted to do was learn honkey tonk and rag time and just PLAY.

i got suspended from high school my freshman year but it was because i was being bullied and had my life threatened numerous times and no one would listen until i tried to come up with (the wrong) solutions myself.

i spent my senior year pregnant because FINALLY, FOR ONCE a boy liked me and "friends" told me the only way to keep a boyfriend was to have sex with him...they just forgot the condom part of that discussion.

i didn't seek trouble, i wasn't trying to make any points, i wasn't trying to BE anything special. trouble still found me though. that is one thing i've always been exceptional at. you need anything beta tested? want to test the durability on something? have an idea you're not sure if it's good or not? hit me up. no one is ever completely worthless. you can always be held up as the bad example. goofus always looked like he was having a better time than gallant anyway. suck and egg.

looking back, i'm honestly jealous of those "rebellious" teenagers- imagine being that bold and confident in who you are as a young person that you're willing to go against the crowd. yeah, maybe at times some of them were just being shitheads. but probably the majority were just trying to be themselves. and yes, as they've grown they may have left certain parts of that behind- stopped shopping at hot topic, taken a piercing or two out, taken a corporate job "for the man," but maybe some chased their dreams with confidence. maybe some became confident leaders. maybe some became the game changers and the perspective shifters we've all come to look to when things get shitty.

circling back, i want to be that bold.

i wrote myself a stoner note the other day:

figure out how to be stoner you all the time. the one that yells at wheel of fortune and says the things you think. be the person that writes about being so old you pee a little when you take a particularly good hit. be the person that is open and honest and not over analyzing every. single. thought. be the person that says things. start the awkward conversations. talk about the embarrassing topics.

stoner me is wise.

stoner me also really likes to dance, much to the dismay of anyone within viewing range.

circling back again, thirty seven is starting off weird. my mid life crisis is bumming me out. unemployment isn't all it's cracked up to be. i'm not a rebel, but i wish i knew how to be. i also wish i knew what i wanted to be when i was growing up. that information would be useful right about now. but that's a whole other topic that's been rattling around.

where i get it

my dad was born april 5, 1955 in akron, ohio.

he would have been 59 this year.

almost 60.

i honestly don't know what 60 looks like. it seems like people are either close to my age (27-69) or OLD (70+). i'm lousy at guessing ages. but 60. my dad would have been 60. 

i don't know how he managed to be born in akron, ohio but raised in anaheim, california. i don't know way too many things about him. i do know his dad died in 1962 when my dad was 7. i know he was an eagle scout. i know he was part of a baptist church youth bell choir.

that's about it.

what i DO know is that my dad would drive from the yakima valley to spokane every year for my birthday in my adult years and take me out to a nice dinner. since his death i've claimed april 5 as steak and beer day in his honor. he can't take me out to dinner on my birthday anymore, but i sure as hell can enjoy his favorite meal on his birthday for him.

i never appreciated his driving 2.5 hours each direction for my birthday when he was around to do it. this year the small spawns adopted grandparents drove to spokane for his school concert/birthday dinner. about 2.5 hours. i truly appreciated it. i managed not to snot myself during dinner, but i sure snotted all over the car on the way home from dinner.

some people are just...amazing.  you know?

my dad was a grizzly bear. as kids we had to draw the short straw to wake him up for work. he was not a morning person.

that's where i get it from.

he also snored like a cartoon character. i still swear that if he wore socks when he slept you would have been able to see them blow back and forth when he snored. you possibly could have seen the walls of the house flex in and out too.

that's where i get it from.

one of the very last things i learned about my dad was that he loved musicals- chicago in particular.

that's where i get it from.

that whole side of the family- the miller side- not exactly a petite genetic structure.

that's where i get it from.

my dad loved all things related to a good steak dinner.

that's where i get it from.

my dad had some great sayings too-

"close the door, you're letting all the bought air out."

"wow. your legs go all the way up to your hips."

"i don't mind if you work at a stip club. just let me know which one so i'm not surprised."

he always called my brothers either "fuzz nuts" or "son" without exception.

he whistled john denver songs on car trips.

he always stopped at long horn bbq on his way out of town.

and best of all- he knew he had made plenty of mistakes in his life like we all do. he told me his job wasn't to judge me, it was to be there and help pick me up when i fell on my face.

i hope i get that from him.

happy birthday dad.