I am dealing with a little depression due to circumstances out of my control, but overall, I am still pretty frikken excited about turning 50.
I think that officially makes me middle age?
But here are some interesting stats.
Two of my sisters didn't live past 30.
Another didn't make it to 40.
A brother did not make it to 40.
And my mother died at 55.
So that fact that I am here in this time and place is miraculous to me.
I'm fine. Those siblings were siblings that I grew up with, but we had a blended family, and there is no DNA in common with any of those people except my mom... who smoked... since she was 11.
All the same, there is some survivor guilt and also some awed enthusiasm as I approach this crazy milestone.
Are you ready? Cuz I am.