I’m older than my Dad

No, Peeps, I don’t mean more “mature”.  I probably hit that milestone a decade ago.  The ol’ man wasn’t exactly the picture of adulthood.  I mean that at the ripe old age of 37 years 7 months, I am officially 2 weeks older than my Dad ever had the fortune to become.

This revelation is both liberating and scary.

See, I’ve had this fear, ever since I became aware of my own mortality (probably sometime during college), that I would die young like my Dad.  I railed and rebelled with my psyche about this because I knew that Dad always said he wouldn’t make it to 40 and lo and behold, he was right.  So I’d say insistently that I’m going to live to be 100.

But then in the last few years, I realized that I was not living like someone with designs on being a centenarian.  I was eating wrong, exercising not at all, drinking too much, sleeping too little, and not really enjoying any of it.  I became on one hand, laser focused on changing my ways and on the other, paralyzed by the fear that I’d be suffering Dad’s sorry fate.  I vacillated between depression and determination.  And you know those two emotions rarely exist together well.  So, depression mostly won.

It mostly is still winning.  But I’m trying, Peeps, I’m trying.  I’m using all the tools at my command to turn this ship around.  I could really wrangle a Titanic metaphor, here, but that might be going too far. 😉

Because, like I said,  I have been liberated because of this revelation that I crossed one threshold.  I have officially lived longer than Dad.  Perhaps I’ve broken “the curse”.

The next threshold is August 31 of this year.  The day after Dad died.  The last, and most hopeful, will be December 31 of this year, when I will officially be 38.

I’m anticipating that with each passing day on the calendar, I’ll feel more and more free.

Still, it is scary, because, well…

Wow.  If I have beat the curse, if I have survived longer and better than my father, then I have a debt to pay to fate, to myself, to my family.

I can’t go on being depressed and depressing.

I owe it to  The Powers That Be to use this bonus time well.

Can I do it?  To paraphrase the immortal words of Bob the Builder, “Yes I can!”  I hope.  I really want to.

But until I cross those last two thresholds, I am fighting the feeling that my life is either a) in a holding pattern or b) slipping through my fingers.

To combat this, I pledge to make several steps to invigorate my day-to-day life- being more organized, having a system, carving out time to do what I love.

So, Peeps, keep your fingers crossed.  I say we have a big ol’ bloggin party on NYE!


2 thoughts on “I’m older than my Dad

    • I can hold onto that sentiment most days. But then I’ll get heart burn, or a weird heart palpitation, or a terrible headache and I’ll think, “This is it! Heart attack or stroke time…” It’s insanity, I know.

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