49

This is 49. I have been mellow leading up to my birthday, but this morning, as I drove to my Mom's house armed with her favorite sticky buns and fresh rolls (I wanted to bring her a gift since this day signifies the day she pushed her 6th baby out vaginally), I got teary.

I was overwhelmed by the feeling -- as I drove towards a woman who has lived her life with clear eyed faith and a belief in the good, even amidst mind-blowing levels of hard shit -- that I want to start living my life as I on ramp into my fifth decade, with extraordinary care.

I am not talking about expensive new self-care practices or major life shifts. In fact, it is the opposite. During the height of the pandemic I leaned heavily into the practice of finding joy in the tiny things; any small, seemingly mundane touchpoint that could remind me that there were OK things in the world. But I know I also get mired in shit...bitterness, aggravation, and pettiness that probably at some level serve a purpose in processing feelings (I am still working on liberating my emotional robot side), but ultimately get more bandwidth than deserved, and cloud the reality that I am living an abundant life that I never would have dreamed was possible as a young person dealing with scarcity, abuse, and racism.

So what does extraordinary care look like? In broad strokes, it's about building awareness and intention around the tiny building blocks that contribute to caring for my relationships, my body, my mind, the space around and beyond me. It's about noticing the good and finding grace in my moments of aggravation to level set and see the reality for what it is. It's about forgiveness and healing. It's about continuing to work on liberating my emotional robot side. It's about making positive choices about my time. It's about trusting in what is here right now, and being OK with uncertainty.

And it's about staying grounded in gratitude. Today, as I left my Mom's house, I thanked her for inspiring me to live with extraordinary care. I got teary again and she rubbed my arm and said, "And don't forget to let people take care of you too." Okay, Mom.

Photo by Violet 10/12/2022