Happy Birthday To Me

This one is a ramble.

I’m pretty sure I’ve turned this Not-A-Blog into therapy. I always seem to feel a little better having a nice vent for the few of you that read these, at any rate. So, it’s time to whine and shine again.

I was watching Patton Oswalt’s new special We All Scream on Netflix the other night and he said something that hit pretty close to home: Don’t take aging personally.

I’m turning 50 tomorrow. I’m taking it very personally, even though I’m trying not to.

I really thought that by the time I turned 50 I’d have my shit together. Not so much. There’s a part of me that takes solace in memory. My dad had to start over at nearly the same age, and things actually worked out for him. On the other hand, in comparison, I am a near total fuck up, and dad was not.

So, what are we working with here?

I involuntarily burned out a few years ago. I would love to really dig deep into this story, but I was forced to sign an NDA and I can’t get the other party to release me. That puts the biggest fuckover in my life outside of a sharable narrative. Spiffy.

As I wrote a couple of weeks ago, I’m working to right the Wrong Ship that my life has become. It feels like I’m failing at a 12 step program, to be honest, but I’m working it, and success follows determination … right?

I’m reflecting. I’m wallowing in nostalgia. I’m slowly making amends, working my way through a Roll-a-Dex of half remembered hurts I’ve caused. I’m also dissembling, which I don’t like.

Self improvement at this age feels silly and entirely self serving – which I guess it is. So what’s the worry? 50 is the new 40 after all?

So what are we working with headed into my next decade?

Gen-X problems:

Rent keeps going up, making paying on time every month more of a gamble than a certainty, even though I have 2 jobs.

There is $537 in my retirement account, and it’s not even a proper 401k.

I’ve aged out of my field.

Long covid.

Chronic migraines. Arthritis. Diabetes.

Financial panic attacks.

This is getting terribly whiney, isn’t it? Hang in there with me, okay?

On the other hand, I’m in a happy, stable relationship with someone who treats me like a loved person and not an incomplete fuckwit with feet. I haven’t been yelled at or insulted in years, and it’s awesome.

My kids are all awesome. All of them.

My voice still works. The LEFT Show is almost at 600 episodes. The World’s Greatest Comic Book Podcast is almost at 500 episodes.

I’m back in school, trying to certificate my way back into my field. Granted, it cost a small fortune and the monthly payments have destroyed my finances, and I don’t have the time day to day to stay caught up, but it’s inching forward and there’s an end in sight.

I’m writing again. Slowly, certainly, but it feels good to write, even if it’s only pouty missives taking the place of proper therapy (you’re soaking in it right now).

I have rediscovered joy in the simple pleasures I thought reserved for youth.

Things are good, if I’m honest. Difficult as Hel, but good. So, what’s with the dichotomy?

I’ve had several mantras in my life, and I hold to two of them more than any others, even if they are at odds with one another (bear with me, this should pan out):

“In man’s struggle against the world, bet on the world.” – Kafka.

… and then …

“Shit happens.” – Abraham Lincoln.*

The world is going to kick the shit out of you as often as it can get away with it. A soul stomping mangling at every available opportunity. The thing is, Shit Happens, and since there’s nothing you can do about it, you have to stand back up, square your feet, and keep fighting back, even though, in the end, we all lose. The willingness of fighting back, not only to protect yourselves, but to provide succor and safety – however temporary – to others is how you define the attempt to live forever.

I bet on the world, because I’ve accepted that at some point it all ends. Inescapable. I’m scared, but accepting…

… because shit happens, and as there is nothing you can do about it, you have to let it roll off, snap your cuffs, dust your lapels, and take another swing. You will not win the fight of your life, but you can hurt the bastard before you go.

Solace is a slog.

“Change will not come if we wait for some other person or some other time. We are the ones we’ve been waiting for. We are the change that we seek.” – Barack Obama

I complain, I believe, to define my demons, and in naming them, banish them from my sight. There are so many positive things happening for me, and my knee-jerk response to define these things as too late is detrimentally self-serving and damaging. I’m working on that.

Shit Happens.

Accept the things you cannot change? No. Where’s the fun in that?

Shit Happens.

Shit Happens.

Shit. Happens.

Anyway, that’s our time. See you next week.

* “Don’t believe everything you read on the internet.” – William Shakespeare.