EPIC (non-drama)

It's sort of epic, in a sense, to be here, to be doing this, to be ME right about now. I don't mean writing this particular blog, particularly. I mean all of it. Being in my mid-forties, married with kids, a mortgage, date-night, the whole quotidian life.

Yes, that's right, I feel I am leading an epic yet quotidian life. Oxymoronic? Perhaps.

You see, when I was very young, no one thought I would survive through my teens. Between trying to swing over the bar, skateboard through gravel pits, and ride my bike no-handed down the front steps of my school -- everyone pretty much assumed that one day, I'd meet an untimely death. Judging by some of the stunts I pulled, I would have to say it's a shame my folks didn't take more home movies. We could have really "scooped" the whole Jackass phenomenon.

In my teens, I was not really expected to survive through my 20's. I guess most people assumed I'd meet my demise through some combination of cars, alcohol, and pyrotechnics. I was considered by my closest friends to be somewhat "criminally brilliant". But of course people thought my star burned too brightly to last long.

In my 20's it was believed I would never make it well into my 30's. The consensus would have been that I would fall victim to some bizarre hiking, climbing, caving or other outdoor accident, which would later be attributed to drug use. But somehow I managed to scale many a rock wall and then not fall over the edge, and so I eventually made it through the 20's.

In my 30's it was conceivable that I would not make it through my 40's due to a combination of working and worrying myself to death. I was right on track for that for many years, with a bleeding ulcer, migraines, and a nervous breakdown that was scheduled to begin five minutes ago. But again, somehow, I pulled through.

Now I'm well into my 40's and I don't think the 50's, 60's or 70's are out of the question unless of course I succumb to a random sneezing attack while driving. I have recovered quite nicely (at least I think so) from my ulcer and nervous breakdown (thank you very much). Drugs, alcohol, and caving are things of my past. And I think my outlook on life has changed much for the better.

So, to be really, truly middle-aged, is somewhat amazing to me. I never planned, really, to make it this far, though I'm glad I did. So I'm left now with the dilemma of figuring out what it is I want to be when I grow up.

My daughter (the oldest one, the one who will be legal to drink in two months) would point out that I have some time to decide left. She of course would point out that it's not every 20-something who has a mom with purple dreads, nose and belly piercings, and tattoos -- no matter how tastefully hidden -- that drive around in their Mercedes blasting Marilyn Manson while looking for a parking spot at Wal-Mart.

But yeah, to be here, to be with my husband and to see my daughters in their various stages of growing up, and to have worries like paying a mortgage and where to go on vacation and wondering if the softball team saw my tattoo when I slid into home plate... These are great worries to have.

I look forward even to worrying more about retirement. Life can be pretty sweet, when you consider how unexpected it is.