Forty Three

At age 43 (my birthday rolled around over this past weekend) I am comfortable calling myself “middle aged” — primarily because I think 80-something or 90-something is a pretty fair goal. Mike does not agree with me on this point; he both doesn’t like the term “middle aged” and also feels that a longer life is not only possible but likely. Either way, I’m OK with it and if I end up being middle-aged for 20 years, so be it.

It’s been an odd year for me already. My purpose party goals have gone way off the rails and I’m not sure how I feel about that. My writing has also slid to a back burner during the past month of smoothies and slacking. At work, I am watching multiple retirements each month and wondering how that will affect my job. I am also aware that this September marks my official 20th year here (I got my first permanent position in September 1992) and we are staring down job action as we’ve been more than two years with a lapsed contract. I feel like I am in limbo, career-wise, as though I should be on the edge of Big Change but can’t quite bring myself to the edge.

September also marks our daughter’s transition to middle school. I think I am at least as apprehensive and excited about the change as she is. It may bring with it a change in my work hours, too, so I can get her to school in the mornings (Mike has been almost solely responsible for this task over the past 6 years and it’s my turn).

I hope that I do see significant changes this year, and that they are changes for the better. If I take numerology at its word, however, that may not be the case:

The ancients claim that this is an unfortunate number…. It is symbolized by the tendency toward revolution, upheaval, strife, conflict, and war. It carries the vibration of repeated disappointment and failure.

Revolution and upheaval I could probably deal with; conflict and war, not so much. Vive La Revolution!

Photo credit: Dan Taylor via Flickr.