Pgh Lesbian Correspondents

I just read a line in a crime novel on my Kindle app.

In just three years, he’d turn fifty, one of life’s greatest milestones.

The protagonist is a woman, making a note about her husband. It isn’t really relevant to the plot, except to give context to their good relationship.

I’m turning 50 on October 22, 2020. That’s in 37 days.

I’m more focused on the symbolism of a great transition than I am concerned about aging. I’m a big believer that the further away I get from my childhood, the better.

We had originally planned to incorporate some luxury into the celebration to honor the hard work I’ve done around body trauma. Perhaps a stay at a local spa or hot springs resort.

Then, COVID-19. Weekend getaways last two hours tops and certainly no seaweed body wraps.

It’s disappointing, but far from a major sacrifice. Just disappointing.

It feels important to honor the milestone with some sort of meaningful rituals, to get to the essence of what I had wanted to do. I’ve worked very hard on my trauma processing therapy for years and survived a nasty three month bout of bipolar symptoms this year.

I won’t be all-better on October 22, 2020 but I will be better than I ever have been. That warrants acknowledgement.

So far, I have two rituals planned – one, to burn some symbolic items in our fire pit and the second to take a symbolic walk away from the past and toward what’s next.

I’m searching for a third ritual to acknowledge and embrace a future where I am healthier. That’s the most difficult part. I’ve got to fake it until I make it.

I have a lot of rules – no appropriation, no insincerity, no creepy things, nothing that feels silly. No booze or drugs.

I can’t do a massage or facial or pedicure because I would need to know the person.

I thought about asking for a 50 inch smart TV to use in our bedroom with casting apps. Eyesight and tv is a real issue.

I can think of a dozen drives to do. But saying “Hey, I’m looking for validation in the form of gifts for me.” Seems tacky?

Being able to admit that is progress. Usually, I just do it passive-aggressive like and it goes to hell.

My dream future right now is to have a pancake breakfast in a restaurant. To have a dozen new pairs of pretty underwear and 3 dozen pairs of socks. To have a birthday cake.

Maybe then I can see what life on the other side of 50 looks like?