go and read Ninsi's blog post about her recent B-day. Then come back.
Ready?
I keep forgetting that she's just 1.5 years younger than me. I am so accustomed to leading my pack in the birthday category that I just tend to assume I've got at least 3 years on everybody.
Can I tell you how weird it is for me to realize that there are people I've known and been friends with for twenty years? Even fifteen gets me. It just doesn't seem that I should have known anyone for that long, much less to still know them and like them.
I agree that the odd numbered years are the ones that catch in the mind; I think it has something to do with the mental shape of them. They seem to have lots of corners and edges and pokey bits; whereas the even numbers feel rounded and slip away like nothing is happening. But that is not true. There is always something happening, whether the year is sharp or smooth. I struggle to remember this all the time and tend to fail more often than not. I, too, am experiencing the sharp clack, clack of the bioclock and the frustration of missed opportunities and squandered time. There is simply nothing to be done for it but to square our shoulders and keep going. 30 will arrive in its own time, as will 40, and then 50, and unless we all go up into a glowing cloud of radioactive politically driven bullshit at that time (or before then, for that matter) the rest will also follow in the designated fashion regardless of our desire, influence, hopes or ability, so we might as well just try to keep up.
anyway: so 25 was quite a year for me. When I was about 17, I think, maybe 16, I was having an immensely hard time of living. I was very depressed, and being a teenager lent a bit of melodrama to the scenario. I had a long talk with a good friend one night, and I told him that I didn't think I was going to live much longer. This, of course, frightened him and he made me promise that I would wait until I was at least 25. This not only gave me a few years to try and get my shit together, it would also allow me to see the turn of the millenium, which was fast approaching.
The year I turned 25, I was living with the Evil M/ Evil Ex, whatever you want to call him. And I remembered the promise I had made to my friend, those few years ago. And I was glad that I had made that promise, and I became determined to get the fuck out of that situation and keep on living. My mom told me in the fall of that year that my friend had been calling, and that he had stopped by to visit a couple of times. I knew that he remembered too. This only made me more firmly intentioned to achieve liberation from the hell I was in. And I did it. In the very end of that year, 2001, I managed to wrangle a situation that cut off the relationship and headed the Evil M back toward his end of the country and the fuck out of my life. He was gone by April of 2002, I moved back into my mom's house, and got in touch with my friend. He would come by and see me, and we would talk. I don't remember ever discussing the promise with him during that time, and I don't think it would have been necessary. If he thought I forgot, it was the same as if I remembered. I was still alive, and had learned a little bit about living and fighting for it.
Time has passed, and I have lost touch with my friend again. But that's ok. I know that he is out there, and I know that he knows how to find me through my mom. And even if the bizarre happens and I never see him again, it will be alright. I kept my promise, and he kept his. And even though I have had some really bad days since I passed the deadline (heh) I have gotten past those too. I now have someone in my life that I can cling to when it gets that bad. And I know that he will prop me up, defend me, put my socks on for me, whatever it takes. And I'll get through the next bad days that come, and the ones after that. It sounds so damn stupid and syrupy and trite, but all you can do it grit your teeth and keep going. Claire (from The Breakfast Club) said "Suicide is not an option." but the theme song to M*A*S*H says "but suicide is painless, it brings on many changes, and I can take or leave it as I choose." I believe this is more the right of it. Suicide is an option. Just not a really good one. And I've learned to leave it. My choice. My option. My life.
