Exposing the Birthday Nerve

Each year at this time I post here a reflection on my life and the path it's taken in the previous year. Last year was particularly poignant for me as the initial digit in my double-digit years of existence changed for the first time in ten years. Although a bit clichéd but nonetheless appropriate as I entered my fourth decade, I examined my life through the words of Jimmy Buffett's A Pirate Looks at Forty.  This year, well, no one writes songs about turning forty-one.  So I'm left with my own words to mark the passing of another year.

 

I have many friends who have strong faith and belief, and they each describe their relationship with God as a friendly one – they can speak to God in prayer, or conversation. Well, when I look at things, let's just say that some will likely see what I am about to write as blasphemous. Point being, if God is my friend, and we're having a conversation, this is what I'd like to say to my friend, speaking friend to friend:

 

Seriously dude, what the f*ck?

 

In several days I will be forty-one years old. Yes, I have many wonderful things and people in my life. Should I complain? Probably not. Can I help it? No. I cannot. I'm going to be FORTY-ONE YEARS OLD. And where am I? Some days it feels as if I'm nowhere. Some days I look to the horizon and believe that the horizon is nothing but a cruel illusion, filling me with a false sense of hope and desire. I feel stuck, mired in my own misgivings. And it sucks. It sucks rocks.

 

You'll notice I'm not using the parenthetical heckler in this tome. I know what you're thinking, and this time I honestly need to write without acknowledging it. This is something I need to get out without heckling, distraction, or feigned judgment. Sometimes things aren't all rosy. Sometimes I can't put on a sarcastic, cynical façade and joke my way through it. No, not this time.  Forty was fine. Forty-One f*cking blows.

 

I wrote once, a long time ago that I am insecure though I know I should be confident in my accomplishments. Right now I feel as if I've just put brand new vinyl siding on a barn whose posts have nearly been eaten completely away by termites. The structure still stands, barely, and from the exterior looks as strong and secure as ever. Looks can be deceiving and it would take but a breeze to send the entire thing crumpling to the ground.

 

I am forty-one years old. I am twice divorced. I am the token "single guy" friend, the token "divorced guy."  I get the fact that everything happens for a reason, but I swear to sweet bejeebus is it too much to ask that it happen to someone else? I see my friends, happily married, posting pictures of their beautiful/handsome spouses and equally beautiful/handsome children. I attend dinners and parties… alone. I love them all dearly, and look at them with a loathing born of jealousy. I am here. Just me. Just me.

 

To say that my life hasn't turned out as I planned is akin to saying that the Titanic's maiden voyage was a little rough, i.e. a bit of an understatement.  I didn't want to be this me. I do not want to be sitting here writing this knowing that I've come to be at this place in life. And as hypocritical as it may be, I don't want to believe the words I profess so much to you, that everything happens for a reason, that life transpires as it's meant to. Because right now that sounds like nothing but a big pile of horse sh*t. This is how my life was meant to be? Gee, thanks, Big Guy. Appreciate it. Truly. Note dripping sarcasm in preceding sentences.

 

I've been trying to center myself, I really have. I've tried to find peace, tried to find optimism, but as with most skills, the task grows harder with age. It takes more practice, and harder work. Right now I just don't know if I have the energy. But I keep trying.

 

You've noticed my recent turn towards country music. This in all honesty has been one of my efforts to get back to being me, grounding myself. I love the music. The words are so much more poignant than most any other lyrics you'll here. Granted, there is as much fluff and nonsense in Country music as there are other genres, but there is far more depth in Luke Bryan's lyrics (see the song Drink a Beer, for instance, or Chris Young's Voices) than there will ever be in a Ke$ha or Pitbull song. And for those who feel the need to constantly tease me about it? Honestly, it's really starting to piss me off.

 

I have always loved country music. A friend stopped by the other day and we got to talking about it, and I showed her the dozens, DOZENS of country music cd's I've purchased and possessed over the last twenty years. It's not something new, it's not a mid-life crisis, it's something that is very much a part of me. This is not the first time I've owned a cowboy hat, yet everyone acts as if I've gone off the deep end because I purchased one again. You know what? I don't care what you think. I really don't. And I'm tired of being ridiculed for it. Teasing is one thing. I tease my friends all the time. It's what we do. But for f*ck's sake, know the line. I am a generally happy-go-lucky guy but thick skin still only goes so deep. And people wonder why in the past I've changed, or became something I wasn't.

 

I do love my friends and my family, don't get me wrong. Some of those same people who tease are the ones who would be at my door in twenty minutes even if I called them at 3:00 in the morning. I am and will forever be grateful to have that kind of friendship and loyalty in my life. And I will likewise always be at the ready to return the favor. My friends are what help me keep my head above the water's edge.

 

And I know that things aren't all that bad. I'm healthy. I have wonderful people in my life. I have financial stability and a Jeep and a dog and watches and things that make me smile. I have people who love me, and yes I even have some optimism for the future. It's a guarded optimism, though, because each year I think to myself "next year will be better" and it seldom is. I hope nonetheless. That too is a part of me.

 

So… Thank you. Thank you to my friends and family who stand by me, even at my worst. I love you, and though you may not realize that perhaps sometimes you do cross a line (as I'm sure I've done), I love you and forgive you regardless. My friends are my familigia. Always and forever.

 

I didn't anticipate turning forty-one in the condition in which I currently sit, but yet here I am. I'm me, regardless of the me I am. My life is my life. And I apologize as this is not one of my typically upbeat or cynically comical posts. It's purposeful. Maybe a reminder to myself as well as you that while I may put on a nice mask, the mask has to come off from time to time. I'm ranting. I'm not particularly happy at this writing. I'm not sharing this to garner sympathy, but to remain true to my word when I first started this blog – How can I expect you to read my word sand appreciate them, and me, if I am not honest with you? Things aren't always wonderful, so why not write about it? I don't want to be a hypocrite. I always tells those about whom I care to be honest with me, so I am doing the same.

 

Will this feeling pass? Of course. Will I likely have a wonderful birthday? In fact I'm pretty sure I will. But right now, at this moment, I've still got some miles to go before I get to the party. This is the truth of me. This is me, raw and exposed, yet every bit of me as any of the other words I've written here.

 

I'm not perfect, but I'm perfectly me. Take it or leave it.

 

 

© 2014 J.J. Goodman. All rights reserved.