Yesterday, I turned 43.
Another year older. Definitely wiser. Much more grateful. My eyes have been opened to what is real and what is reality — and to how we create our reality.
I celebrated my 42nd birthday in Chicago, at mother’s house, ashamed and sad and awash with feelings of guilt over all I had lost personally and professionally.
I vowed that day I would die fighting to get it all back, but not the material things. I would fight to get back the thing that really mattered: my pride, my esteem, my sense of self, my center.
I had lost my way, and all I wished for on that cold, grey, empty November 4th in 2010 was for life to get better, to be fuller, richer and happier.
The most important thing? I knew I could do it.
I knew that I had it within me to rise up from the ashes like a phoenix, rise above our circumstances, to lift myself up with wings of hope and faith and soar majestically towards a better future.
And you know what? I did.
With an awesome life partner by my side, I worked hard, I kept the faith, I persevered and I succeeded.
By my 43rd birthday, I had it all back, plus more: a job, a home, a car and my sense of self.
But I had so much more: a deep sense of gratitude, a new admiration for my partner, and for the strength of our union. I also had a new appreciation for own continued strength and forbearance.
And there are other gifts I have since received, that I will reveal in later posts.
But what a joy to be able to give the gift of self back to you.
Happy 43 to me.
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