A month or so ago, I deleted my blog because someone left a comment that freaked me out a little bit. I was done. I was tired of not knowing who was reading it and who was “checking up” on me.
However, in the month or so since I deleted it, I have decided that I missed it. Writing is therapeutic. Getting others opinions and thoughts and feelings helps me, as it does so many people. I feel like I’m not alone. I feel like I’m not the only one struggling in life.
So here I am. I’m back. New account. New web address. Same old nonsense.
I am going to be 40 years old, in less than three weeks. FORTY. Four-Zero. The big four oh. Fucking forty years old.
As you can probably tell, I don’t think I’m dealing with it very well.
I realize that there are things worse than turning 40.
- Being trampled by a herd of wild buffalos
- Having your fingernails being pulled off, one by one, with pliers
- Being the mother of a forever ugly child
- Having a crush on a married man
- Bad hair days
So we’ll see how my adventures in dating and life and sex proceed, the closer I get to 40 and beyond the dreaded day.