45 is the new 30

I have to be honest with you here.  I don't know where to begin and I don't know how to explain it, but I will give it my best and well.....if my best isn't good enough.....I don't know what I am going to do.  Blogging about it is about the last thing I know to do because I have talked to people about this.....well I have tried.....and I honestly believe that nobody is understanding the level of trauma that I am experiencing.

So here goes nothing.

When I turned 30, I felt like my world had dropped out from under me.  Not for any particular reason either.  I just felt like there I was at 30 years of age and what did I have to show for it?  Although I had never actually wanted kids, here all of my friends had either started or were starting their families.  I had myself and a husband.  And speaking of...a husband that was a severe alcoholic.  A man that put a bottle before everyone.  I was not allowed to grocery shop nor spend a day with my own mother, without his "permission." Yep, here I was...30 years old and had gotten myself in a mess that even I didn't want to live with.  

I cried a lot.  Everyone that crossed my path got on my nerves.  I was angry at the world. Nothing could make me happy.  Not happy in my heart.  I felt myself pull away from the very people that loved me the most and hid from the world for a while.  

I hated the number 30.  

But it passed.  I don't remember how long it took but it passed.  And that was really the important thing anyway.  By the time 40 came around, I had embraced life and all it had to offer.  I was thrilled about joining Club 40 and seemed to jump right in with both feet. Life was great.

Somewhere around the middle of November this year, I started getting very sad thinking about my upcoming birthday.  I was going to turn 45 years old in a couple of weeks.  Shit, 45 years old!  It almost became an obsession with me; the number.  I felt like it was haunting me at times.  When it should have mattered the least, it hurt the most. 

"I am going to be 45 years old."

Last Friday, I had my birthday and I am still crying about it.  Literally.  To say out loud that I am 45 years old brings tears to my eyes and there's nothing I can do about it.  For the love of God, how is a girl supposed to deal with stupid stuff like this???  Why do we let ourselves get worked up over a mere number???

Quality, not quantity!  Isn't that how it is supposed to go?

And let me tell you...those people that I thought were on my nerves when I turned 30.....well, they have multiplied.  They are now six to the power of three multiplied by the bitch factor.  Squared.  Yeah, I have a brand new "refreshing" feeling of anger toward certain people now and I can't always control it.  Not only am I angry at the world this time, but I am angry at outer space, infinity, and beyond.  The time-space continuum is, at the very least, a "mother trucker, C U Next Tuesday."

My poor husband (and if you know me, you know this is a phrase I RARELY use) has been put through the wringer.  He doesn't even know some days, if he is going to be allowed to speak, let alone breathe, when he comes home from work.  I just apologize to him every eight hours.  Like clock work.  Whether I need to or not.  Just so he knows that it isn't always intentional.  And that it isn't going to last forever.  At least I hope it doesn't.

I have tried to put into words, for a couple of people, the physical pain I feel over this 45 business, but then I get stuck.  The tears start and I have to shut down.  How do you explain feelings to someone when you can't make yourself understand?  Yesterday, I was telling my sister and my niece about it and they just laughed at me.  And what do you think I did?  Yep, started to tear up!  Sooooo, I immediately just changed the subject and dove right into playing with the kids.  

I had to shut down.  I hate shutting down.  It's almost like losing a game when you've played by all the rules.  Or being told you're wrong when you know you're right.  It's a punch in the stomach.  

And I'm not picking on either of these two because they obviously don't "get" what I'm feeling or where I'm coming from but it hurt so much that two people I love so much laughed at something that physically hurts me.  Except for saying "I can't talk about this because it upsets me to tears," how am I supposed to explain that what they just laughed out loud about, is tearing me apart?

"I am 45 years old and life is fantastic."  

I have a husband who still believes I look the very same way I did the first time he met me.  And I've had his eyes checked by a doctor!  He believes that I am that same woman. He loves and adores me, even when he is a pain in my ass.  He does everything in his power to make me happy and he is a hard worker.

I have a job that I look forward to going to on most any day.  Well except for "those" days. You know the ones.  We all have "those" days.  I work with some of the most exceptional officers in our state.  No, I wouldn't trade my work family for anything in the world.  And that has been put to the test a couple of times.  Most of my co-workers are easy enough to get alone with and we all seem to have that same sick sense of humor so that helps on those days when you just don't know if you can keep it all together.

I have the best sisters and brothers in the world.  Even for all their flaws (don't tell them I said that, they don't know they have them), they represent honesty, morals, values, principals, and integrity.  Even with all the problems that we have faced with each other or against each other, I wouldn't change a thing.  And our parents did a damn good job with us.  Lord knows they didn't have it easy either!

With all that being said, why do I have to cry myself to sleep when I lay in bed and can't think about anything but how old I am?  Why do I have to shut down when someone asks me my age or why it bothers me so much?  Why can't I get past this.....NUMBER???

I can't do 30 again and I sure as hell can never go through 45 again.  Ever.  There just wouldn't be a jury on this planet that would let me go.  While Kathy tells me that she is just glad to make it to the next birthday, I am literally wilting inside.  Like a sad, sad piece of lettuce that got left on the counter and forgotten about.  That piece that nobody wanted to include in their salad.  

I can't even begin to think about the next birthday.  Crap, at this point I could care less that 46 comes after 45!  I need to get through TODAY!!!  Am I ever going to get through this unscathed???

Until next time...thanks for reading!