Many Lives In These 40 Years

It’s my 40th birthday!

And I’ve got a lot of thoughts on the matter… Grab a drink, your favorite snack, and a cozy blanket while I get all introspective about life, writing, past mistakes, the many lives I’ve lived, and what I hope to see in the future.

IT’S ME, HI. I’M THE PROBLEM, IT’S ME.

I was scrolling TikTok the other night, and a video popped up asking something like “You know how there are some people who have lived a million lives during the course of this one?” She then proceeded to give examples where her friend mentions random things in passing which most would consider pretty major. For instance, she has backpacked through Europe with only $40 to her name, where she met her current love. She has also fought cancer, left corporate America to manage an ice cream shop, survived a plane crash, renovated houses, won $60k with a scratch off ticket, worked as a ranch hand in Texas for two years, and performed CPR on beach in Cabo, saving some child’s life. The comments fell primarily into two categories: those who have a friend like this, and those who are the friend.

I am the friend.

I try not to talk too much on the crazier parts of my life, for fear that people will assume I’m bragging, exaggerating, or trying to appear in a certain way. This comes from some bad therapy back in the day which left me unable to share much about myself outside of a therapy room. I’ve always been scared to talk about myself to others, but that therapy experience cemented my fear that I’m just seeking attention in some way, so it’s better to stay quiet. It’s one of the things I’m most critical about when I look at myself and my life so far (even now), this desire to share about myself. Like it’s shameful in some way to want to be known. Don’t worry, I’m working on it. I may be 40 years old, but I’m still figuring things out.

And it isn’t just that. It’s also my insecurities over the fact that I’ve never managed to master anything. Some might argue that’s untrue and start listing some of my accomplishments, but I can tell you now it’s a waste of breath. I still do not consider myself a master of literally anything, despite some of those things being on paper. I know it may not seem like it with everything I just said, but I actually have a pretty stable self-concept and I’m confident in my ability to be proficient at most things I try. That hasn’t always been the case, but I’m grateful to have developed it in the latter half of my 30’s. It’s just that I also have this drive to know more and do better. Nothing is ever enough for me to consider myself a master, and for the most part I’m right. While I may be able to consider the idea that I’ve mastered a few random skills, there’s always more to learn, and I don’t tend to stick with the thing once my proficiency reaches a certain level. There are literally hundreds of failed or discarded ventures lying in the pile beside the successes.

Most people have heard the saying, “A jack of all trades is a master of none,” and I certainly grew up hearing it. I did not learn the rest of that phrase until a year or two ago, though: “A jack of all trades is a master of none, though often better than a master of one.” Since I didn’t know there was more to this idea, and since I’ve got a pretty literal brain to begin with, I internalized this to mean that I wasn’t good at anything. Or, if I was good at something, I wasn’t great at anything. My varied interests, and desire to pursue them all, left me feeling perpetually inadequate.

Raised in the military, my family moved a lot and I attended many schools in several cities/states by the time I graduated high school. Although my parents did their best to provide stability in other ways, this constant starting and restarting in new places developed in me a need for variety in my life. Perhaps I’d have ended up with that characteristic regardless of my upbringing (I’m a Sagittarius moon, after all), but it certainly reinforced any pre-existing preference or instinct. I carried it into adulthood, often moving from one thing to the next, gathering life experience like a Pokemon trainer… Gotta catch ‘em all!

Among other constants like art and music, writing has remained a faithful companion, regardless of where I’ve ended up.

A MILLION LIVES

Many people throughout my life have suggested I write a book (implying that I should write about my own lived experiences). From near death experiences and life-altering diagnoses to major accomplishments and awards/recognition, they’re right about one thing: there’s plenty of material to pull from. Some of it is heartbreaking and difficult to put into words, some is terrifying, some is heartwarming and soul-affirming, and some is downright silly or unbelievable.

Just personally, in my own mind, I’ve believed things which weren’t real at all (I will likely write about my Castlewood experience some day but if you want a preview, a quick Google search for “Castlewood victims” will give you a head start). I’ve disbelieved/denied things which later proved true (too many things to even give just one example here, unfortunately, but the DV occurring to me and my kids in my own home comes to mind immediately). I used to feel a lot of shame and regret over my tendency to keep an open mind and never-ending willingness to consider all possibilities, but recent years have brought healing where that’s concerned. I accept that I’m apparently quite cult-susceptible, but it isn’t just that. I also had to recognize the ways my people-pleasing and masking have led to lots of unhealthy relationships and situations throughout my life, culty or not. I’d like think I wouldn’t fall for anything like that again at any level, but my self awareness doesn’t grant me that denial anymore. I remain open-hearted but I take a pause now.

I’m willing to be wrong, and I’m willing to walk away, which already feels like an entirely new level of freedom. I don’t have to stick with anyone or anything just because I’ve already invested so much into them and wrapped up so much of my identity in my connection to whatever/whoever that may be. My opinions and beliefs are no longer my identity, so it’s okay to change them without feeling like I’m ripping up the entire foundations of who I am. I’m okay with disappointing other people, even if it doesn’t feel good in the moment, so long as I’m operating from a place of love and authenticity. Do I wish I’d learned this sooner? Absolutely. But I’m also glad I know it now.

Though there have been a lot of absolutely nuts things happen along the way—40 years is enough time to collect plenty of unique experiences—I also had the massive benefit of growing up in a financially stable home with two married parents who still love each other today. I had the enduring companionship (and outlet) of art, music, and writing, as well as the resources to access those consistently. I’ve had incredible people in my life, even with all the moves and changes. Not everything has been book-worthy but I appreciate those foundational pieces so much. They’ve made me a better human, parent, and friend. They’ve made navigating the other times possible. I cannot acknowledge how far I’ve come without acknowledging the massive head start I received simply because of the family I was born into. Don’t get me wrong, my family has never been perfect, and we’ve had a lot to work through, but it would be disingenuous to deny the impact it had on my life to grow up solidly toward the upper end of middle class, with parents who loved me, afforded all the grace and opportunity to fuck up and figure it out without destroying my entire future in the process.

TO WRITE A MEMOIR OR NOT?

People aren’t off base when they make predictions about how interesting my life story would be, once they’ve learned about a particularly juicy experience. However, if I were to write about my life, I’d struggle with knowing which events or themes to pick. Some of it felt like it happened to me, and some felt like I was proactive in the events as they unfolded. I’ve been fortunate in countless ways, and I’ve also survived some things I wouldn’t wish on anybody.

I’ve always admired memoirists, whether their paths seem straightforward, or they’re a bit all over the place like me. This is because these incredible people have figured out a way to distill their lives down into a few hundred pages, somehow. It seems to me like magic, this ability to condense a life and share it in a meaningful, digestible way. It’s a magic I fear I don’t possess, no matter how much I wish I did. While I certainly appreciate how my life has allowed me to approach most situations with curiosity, and most people with grace (because I’ve interacted with enough people and been in enough places to understand that most of us are doing the best we can), I do wish I possessed the ability to communicate it in a way that might connect with others. Seriously, I respect memoirists so much! But I don’t see myself becoming one. I think I’ll stick with fiction for the foreseeable future.

LIFE = CONTENT

I saw another TikTok video that same night where a writer around my age was discussing the perspective her varied life experience has given her, and how life has provided her with an endless and abundant source of content for her books. I’m paraphrasing, of course, but that’s what I took away from her sharing… and I’ve never related to anything more!

So, bringing it back to where we started… While I may not end up writing anything purely autobiographical, I no longer view my wide range of experience as evidence of a lack of commitment to one thing; instead, it’s a carefully curated collection of moments from a rich and layered life, where I’ve been granted access to empathy and understanding in spaces I may otherwise have lacked it without personal, hands-on experience. And while I do use that in my daily life and interactions with other people, I can now also use it to infuse my characters and storylines with authenticity.

It’s a gift to have lived so many lives in my 40 years on this planet. It’s a benefit that my mind wants to explore and experience as much as possible while I’m here. It may have landed me in some sticky situations from time to time, but it’s also opened up entirely new worlds to me and, because of that, I will be grateful for the way things have played out. I see a tower card pulled in a reading and instead of fear, I nod knowingly. It’s just time for another shift. It’s time to grow. To learn. To live even more. It may feel like disruption (and destruction) in the moment, but history has shown me that I always end up in a more evolved place on the other side. I trust in that completely at this point.

The way my beliefs remain malleable and my heart remains open to redirection may not be for everyone, but I’ve finally come to love it in myself. It doesn’t mean I’m wishy-washy or unable to stick with something. Quite the opposite! I’m fiercely loyal and committed to the essential people and pillars in my life. It’s just everything else. If I’m presented with new information, my opinions can (and will) change. If I’m offered an exciting opportunity which won’t negatively impact my kids, I’m open to pursuing it. If someone identifies something I need to work on, and I’m able to reflect on it and agree, then I’m doing that work. My pride is no reason to avoid growth, and my fear is no reason to avoid change. I hope this flexibility remains as I continue to age!

SO… A VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!

As I look forward to the next 40 years, I do so with immeasurable hope, confidence, and excitement! And love. Lots and lots of love. I have little time or interest in things which don’t cultivate or bring love into my life, in one way or another. Not that it always has to feel good at the time. Sometimes love is critical and challenging, and I welcome that, too.

I’m not as accomplishment-oriented these days, so when I look to the future, my vision focuses on my kids thriving, a loving and peaceful home, and ever-growing, ever-changing hobbies and passions to enjoy. If I had to name a few concrete things I’d like to see in my life in the future, it would include my own home on a nice plot of wooded land with water running through it. If I’m really dreaming, I’d love to own some land and build houses for everyone there so we could all be close by, raising kids and grandkids in a safe family community. My children and I would be a regular part of each other’s lives, even in their adulthood.

I see an art studio big enough to get back into sculpture again. I see my body, soft but strong, and a compassionate relationship with my physical self. There are plants and animals and crystals. There is music. My hands remain nimble and able to wander piano keys and guitar strings. I can travel freely as I wish and eat delicious food from as many places as possible. I write and publish books that bring more magic into this world. Maybe there’s even a partner living live with me again at some point… so long as she and I are always able to honor the individual as much as the relationship, and remain open to growing and changing, both on our own and with each other.

Basically, I see peace. I see healthy relationships. I see the opportunity for fully authentic expression and belonging. I know it’s on me to create all that in my life, so that’s what I intend to do, following my intuition and trusting myself along the way. Nothing is set in stone, and that’s good! I’d rather be the water anyway.

Here’s to another 40 years!