Today, I’m a senior citizen. I think it’s hilarious. In Yiddish, I’m an alte kaker. It means old poop. It’s what Katherine Hepburn called Henry Fonda in “On Golden Pond.” They were goyim, they didn’t know the Yiddish. She called him an old poop.
I can’t believe I’m this old because I feel like a kid, but that’s what old people say. I’m beyond happy that I’m alive and sixty-five. It’s not my custom to publish on Sunday, but today’s the day.
On March 8, 1961, at 9:30 or 10:30, in the morning, not sure which one’s right, I emerged, two weeks late. 5 pounds, eleven ounces. 19” long. Apparently, one of my feet was malformed and had to be casted at birth. I don’t know which foot, they both seem fine. Well, the right one has a bunion, but that’s an old lady thing. I earned it.
Almost every year, my mother texts at 12:01am to be the first to wish me a happy birthday. I’ve never told her how sweet I think that is. Please don’t tell her I said that.
Every year she tells me she was in labor for 14 hours as if it was some Guinness World Record. I only asked her once if it was exciting to see me come out. Why did I ask only once? Because she missed that part; she opted for the drugs. My feelings were hurt, though in retrospect, I would have opted for the drugs, too. Never tell her I said that.
Every year, my mother tells me I was born during a huge snowstorm. She told me the storm was a blizzard. She said it was so bad, my father couldn’t make it to the hospital. My mother has a reputation for being the queen of hyperbole (as an aside, it’s possible I may be the princess. It’s a genetic predisposition).
You know what I’m going to say now, right? You don’t? Okay, you’re not going to tell her I said that, either.
There was a blizzard in 1961, it wasn’t March, it was February and yielded 17 inches of snow. It’s documented; I looked it up. Today. On the day I was born, 0.6 of an inch of snow fell, the low was 32º, the high was 41º. It’s documented; I looked it up. It seems hyperbole won the day. But was it hyperbole or was it a lie? Where was my new dad the day I was born?
Hmmmm. Not sure I want to know.
After all these years, it never occurred to me to look it up until I was writing this post. I have to tell you, I’m not a bit surprised. What IS surprising is I’m not upset. I laughed. That’s important. It means that the feelings of anger and resentment I’ve carried around for most of my life about the dysfunctional family I grew up in are falling away.
There are times I think I know too much about the past. There are other times, when I think that the information I do possess has only scratched the surface of all the things I don’t know and will never learn. And today, it doesn’t matter.
The most important thing is that I’m here and I’m happy. My life is the life I always wanted. As a storyteller, a memoir writer, facts are important, but what ARE facts? What I rely on, when telling my stories are my impressions of the life I’ve lived and the memories I hold. My interpretation. That’s all I can ever have.
Facts are for the weather.
When I was a child, someone told me that I was born on a Wednesday. Then they told me that meant I was full of woe. Wednesday’s child is full of woe. Wednesday’s child had far to go. I know that one’s for Thursday’s child, but it was true for me, too. I was a sad kid, a sad teenager, and a sad adult, for a very long time.
When I heard that I was born on Wednesday, that was the fact, but I took the other piece of information and made that a fact as well. It was my brand. Sad. That’s how I lived for most of my life, carrying this core wound, this core belief.
Many of you know from reading my previous stories, that I’ve come a long way. I’ve done hard work to dispel that old belief. I fought for my life. And now, my life is mine. It’s mine.
So today IS the happiest day. It’s a good day. Because I can look at the last couple of years and know for a “fact” how far I’ve come, how much I’ve healed. The life I live now is the one I want. Sad isn’t my go-to, and sometimes I still feel sad. But it doesn’t scare me and it doesn’t linger. I embrace the feeling and then move through it to the next one. There’s more pain in resisting the feelings, than letting them come. Sometimes, I have more than one feeling at the same time. And guess what? Feelings aren’t facts. Nothing is black and white anymore. In 12-step meetings, we speak to that, we celebrate when the black and white thinking goes away. Many say they’re grateful to be living in the gray.
Not me. I live in the rainbow. It’s a spectrum of feelings, and it’s far more entertaining. Life is vivid when you live in a rainbow.
So, I’m not going to hang with you too much longer today (famous last words). It’s my birthday, and I have some work to do before I go hang with my best friend, Jeanne. We celebrate our birthdays together every year. We were born 5 days apart, and a year. I’m the older one.
For a long time, I needed to make a big deal of my big day. It meant expensive dinners out, usually French. But if my birthday didn’t feel special enough; if not enough people got in touch, or sent me cards, or got me great gifts and baked me delicious cakes, I’d get depressed. The let-down was enormous. Not anymore.
This year, instead of spending a big wad of cash, I’m going to her house. I’m bringing my pups. We’re going to have pizza. That’ll be a treat, because I don’t eat it as much as I used to. She bought me seltzer, my favorite flavor. Plain. It’s Jewish that way. Flavored seltzer? I don’t think so. We’ll probably get high and watch a movie. And we’ll laugh and laugh and laugh. Because that’s what we do best together. And nothing compares to that particular brand of joy.
So, here’s a quick inventory of what I’ve gotten done this past year, because I’m proud of the work I’ve accomplished and the direction I’m heading in. Here’s the list:
Published an essay inThe Rumpus. It was my first submission ever.
Got brave enough to submit again, to Dorothy Parker’s Ashes, and was rejected! It’s official. I’m a writer.
I’m going to be published in an anthology of essays about mothers and daughters. It’s a real book I’ll put on my shelf. I’ll be in the company of some stellar writers. You’ll see, in 2027.
Writing my first memoir.
Started a GLP-1 and lost a bunch of weight. The weight loss is great, but feeling healthier is the best part for me. I’m loving my still-fat body. If I never lose another pound I don’t care. I’m perfect the way I am. I needed help to get here. Now, I have to get this ass to the gym. That’s the goal for this year.
I’m staying on the medication, because it takes the food noise away, and my A1C is normal.
I go to ACA 12-step meetings.
After 5 years (and quite a few decades) I graduated from therapy. It was time to stop. For now.
Officially retired from web design. Now I can do more graphic design, the part of the job I love the most.
Left a client I worked with for fourteen years. She helped me discover my storyteller self and gave me my first web design job. I realized it was time to do for myself what I’ve been doing for others, for years.
Started Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam! an online feminist story slam.
Applied for fiscal sponsorship through a non-profit arts organization and got it, so now people can support Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam! by making donations that are tax-deductible.
Published a weekly essay for my 2nd year in a row.
Realized that continuing to write a weekly essay is more than I can produce right now, so I’m giving myself permission to write one essay a month and treat my Next Write Thing readers to the video of the monthly story slam. Cutting back was a hard decision. But I want to be good to myself and my readers.
I’m making wonderful new friends and letting go of relationships that don’t serve me.
Axed Zuckerberg and everything Meta, once and for all. I’m not ready to pull the plug on Bezos. I have to be honest about that.
Realized that I’m in love. With being single.
Love who I see when I look in my mirror, and I look at all of me now, not just my face.
Learned how to make and keep boundaries.
Have a solid relationship with Grace, my higher power.
Not afraid of those bullies. You know who I mean. I’ll be damned if I give them the satisfaction. I have a life to live, and lots to do, including fighting the forces of evil, just like Wonder Woman.
Making a difference.
I’m forgiving my family. I never thought I’d get to that place.
My 5-year-old self and my inner teenager are safe and happy.
My inner loving parent is doing a great job.
Last, but not least:
I have everything I need and always did. I just had to figure that out.
Thank you to all of you who read my stories, comment, and share. You give me more than you’ll ever know. You blow me away.
Oh, and the thing I love the most about my birthday?
It’s also International Women’s Day. See, I was a feminist from my very first day on the planet and I’ve got the paper to prove it.
xoNan
