I suppose that I should acknowledge, based on years of observation, that some people have significant challenges with the ‘milestone’ birthdays. Some folk revel in them, basking in the glow of achievement and celebration, some are seriously afraid of them and what they perceive them to mean about the progression of their lives. Each milestone means we are older. Each milestone can also be used as a marker of where we should be in our lives in terms of career, family, relationships and so many more silly little things that are defined by the society we choose to live in, bumping up against the framework for success that the society creates. And of course the moment you subscribe to or endorse any such framework, it becomes the yardstick by which we measure our lives. The measuring is what I’m pretty sure is the disturbing part for many;
What have you achieved?
How do you deserve to celebrate, or be celebrated at this particular milestone?
Okay, so I have hit a serious milestone but to me it really is just another birthday. The difference for me though is that each birthday is a celebration; I’ve lived another year defying the odds. And that’s what is important to me. I got slammed with a life threatening cancer some years ago, and then the hemorrhagic stroke two years ago. Each birthday says “I’m not done!” which is either due to my own stubborn naiveté or the universe acknowledging that my contribution to the world is inadequate and I need to top things up a bit.
Paraphrasing the lyrics to a song here; another turn around the sun, another year gone, but the work still not done.