I’m 37 today. It’s a number that sounds grown up. I think I felt more grown up at 27, though.
Maybe I’m Benjamin Buttoning. (Making that reference dates me. The fact that I’m pretty sure I’m repeating a joke I think I’ve already made on this blog and don’t care is also proof of my age.)
It only just occurred to me that reverse Benjamin Buttoning is just normal aging.
I have neither read nor seen The Curious Case of Benjamin Button.
I find myself craving inspiration in the form of people sharing their stories with humility. I’m over gurus and authorities.
I long for stories of vulnerability and authenticity.
I miss distant friends.
Yesterday I found out that my thyroid is out of whack again. I’m trying to remember everything I learned before, not just about how to heal, but also how to cope.
I feel despair often, but then there’s this:
My kid is giggling in the tub right now and there’s no better sound in the world.
