I’ve always heard that the year that your numeric age matches your birthday, that it is supposed to be your power year. This past year shoudl’ve been mine. 27th of July, 27th year.
Well, at this time last year, I was having the worst birthday ever, it might have even been the straw that broke the camel’s back. I was in a bad marriage, I was miserable, my kids were miserable. It was in fact on my birthday last year, that I took a sabbatical out of town. I went home in a sense. Back to where I grew up, hung out with people who knew me, when I was me. Before I became the beautiful mess that I was. I remembered me, and I missed me. Me wasn’t something I often got a chance to think about. And in the midst of my driving on the open road, left alone with myself and my thoughts, I made the decision that things were going to change.
And they surely have.
My 27th year of life was the year I really found myself. Finally.
I had to leave behind the girl I was in order to learn what kind of woman I am. Much to my dismay, it meant ending my marriage, intensive therapy, my children having their worlds turned upside, and watching my best friend grieve the loss of her son before I got it. This is life, and you can only have what you make of it and that takes, strength, courage, and grace. I was me for the first time in a long time. I was take it or leave it. I stopped hiding. I decided to live for me. I took a chance. I met my soulmate. There were a lot of tears, a lot of unanswered questions, a lot of good-byes, a lot of letting go. But, I survived. And now, even in the darkest of circumstances, I have peace.
This last year was my power year.
What’s this year?
I guess we’ll just have to find out.