It’s my birthday today.
…Yaaaaay.
I’ve posted before that my family doesn’t have the deepest of gene pools to swim around in. Apart from my maternal grandfather Jim and my great-aunt and great-uncle Ness & Dud, my clan’s average life-span isn’t near as long as I would like. To clarify though, my preference for a brighter birthday cake at the end would be for their benefit as well as mine – I wouldn’t want you to think on top of kicking off too early I was going to be a dick about it.
My point is, my mortality is like a little skull-faced monkey in a black robe (accessorized by a tiny scythe, of course) that’s been sitting on my shoulder for years. My father died when I was twelve (don’t let anyone tell you different, a death in your immediate family will fuck you up HUGE when you’re that young) and so got an early and graphic introduction to the fact that everyone, including me, will be dust in the wind in a hundred years.
What’s worse, Terry’s first heart attack happened when he was 31, and I’m turning 36. I managed to quit smoking for good about 5 years ago (thank you, Jeff) and started working out like mad around 2007. I know I’m a hell of a lot fitter and healthier than Terry ever was, but every time I do a chin-up or a push-up or go for a run, I have my cell within reach in case I collapse with chest pains – See previous paragraph re: early family death fucking you up HUGE.
I recognize negative thinking for what it is, and I know that while accepting my mortality is healthy, being negative about it isn’t productive. It’s like people with OCD recognizing that yeah, there’s germs everywhere, but you can’t do anything about it, so come on and put down the hand-soap already.
The most important thing is that I’m by and large very happy – I love my guy, my dog and my house, my friends and my life in Vancouver – and realized very recently that it would take a LOT to be this happy anywhere else. I’ve been around the world, seen a lot and done even more, and my regrets are few. Things are good, and I wouldn’t change a thing- even turning 36, as long as I can do it here.
I just realized, this post is like giving fate the finger and daring it to drop a bus on me. If I’m killed today, please file the C.O.D. under “well, duh”.
