I just turned thirty-nine yesterday. When I was twenty-nine I had a lot of bitter cups. I imagined my soul as having a lot of windows in it and on the sills were these mason jars filled with bitterness. They could have been filled with peace and joy and beauty but they were not. On my thirtieth birthday I had this birthday celebration that I called 'the burning' and I symbolically emptied out my bitter cups and burned up the bitterness. I started my thirties in freedom. It was powerful and in some respects I issued a challenge to myself. I had no idea what was going to come in my thirties. I had hope they would be easier than my twenties. Have the thirties been easier? No. Life for a person of my ilk can not defined as easy. Every little thing is felt so deeply and settles in. Every little thing matters. So the thirties have been hard too. I have aged so much, I have experienced trauma and grief. I have not been as strong or as brave as I hoped I would be able to be. I have often just been in a heap inside myself trying to gather enough strength to rise. Sigh.
With that being said. I am determined to not NEED a 'burning' for my fortieth. No bitter cups for me! I just can't do that. And that is what I have been thinking about lately.
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