On turning 38.

Last weekend I quietly celebrated my 38th birthday. I’ve been very emotional about this one for reasons completely unrelated to turning 38. Life is very heavy right now and finding joy for myself in the middle of it is hard. My Mom and Grandma came to visit, I made myself a cake, and we spent quality time together.

Lately I’ve spent lots of time striving to align my life with what fills my cup the most. I’ve taken up a new creative pursuit, aggressively searched for answers regarding my health problems, and have been seeing a therapist as well. Choosing how I spend my time and attempting to come to terms with the fact that my time is limited is a lot harder than it sounds. I am notorious for saying that I need “clones of myself” to get everything done when I actually need to strive to do less.

Being a mother means that I am constantly torn between my maternal instincts and creative pursuits. Even with a partner as supportive as my husband is and boys who are older, guilt still lingers when I take time for myself, even if I know I deserve it. I’ve been forcing myself to and it does get easier. I’m finding joy in time on my own and after 3 years of pandemic living (some of us still have to be very careful) it feels good to do so. The path to self-discovery is not linear.

Looking forward, I’ve had very candid talks with family and friends about my priorities and feelings about the future. If things in this space start to look a little more candid, don’t be surprised.

Wearing The Great Eros.