This is 50. But I’m not quite there. I’m 47 and like every milestone, their whisperings begin around the 7 mark: 17 begins 20, 27 begins 30, 37 to 40 and now this, fifty. A half century.

I’m already blessed because I have made it this far.  In 1962 the average life expectancy was 65 which means a whole lot of people in my circle (even me) could’ve been dead by now fifty five years ago. In 2018, our average life expectancy for women in Canada is 83. I wonder what it will be in twenty years. I’m guessing closer to 95. If that’s the case, right now, (if all goes well) I’m probably at the half way point. In these moments I wonder… good gawd, what on earth am I going to live through next?

I suspect everyone has an approaching 50 list. Here’s mine:

At almost fifty I am:

• Shocked to be soon divorced.
• Overwhelmed by how many more years I am willingly and yes lovingly carrying my children as a single parent (another decade).
• Aware, grateful and still a bit raw about a journey through cancer.
• Kind of ashamed by the financial collapse of my life, now twice, both post a marital breakdown.
• I forgot that part, I’m soon to be divorced twice. Ugh. Twice. I’m a statistic too.
• Almost 50 and I’m pretty awed by my psychological and physical constitution. I have endured many stories and I still smile, just not all the time.
• Appreciative of this body of mine which carried me through my first triathlon months post cancer (seriously, what was I thinking?). I’m astounded by what this body can do, and how I can recover.
• I am kind of disssociated from the achievement because I don’t really understand how it all happened and where the motivation came from. Have you ever felt like that?
• Heartbroken by the randomness of loss I know to be part of this thing called life.
• Lost in my own romanticism of possibility.
• Drowning while still breathing my almost-50 yearnings.
• Blown and breathless by the mystery that is Love, Art and God.
• Clear that I never need to be ‘saved’ by any one person again.
• Solid to be my own hero yet deeply aware and moved by the knowing none of us are here to do this or be alone.
• I am almost fifty.
• I am my own hero, my own sunflower, my own carpet of magic, and my own story stone in the ocean.

And still,

Life kicks my ass sometimes, cracks my heart open so wide I swear my heartbeat meshes with the pulse of the sun, and life and all it’s messiness can bring me to my knees in utter helpless, and hopeless beauty.

This is 50.

If you’re familiar with my writing you’ll know ‘this’ is what I do. Something wild this way comes and ‘this’ is what it looks like when my story tells me. After coffee and scrolling through travel adventures online, followed by deliciously facebook messaging a dear friend across the globe with my findings, I began to scribble some thoughts on a big hunk of paper.

This is 50. I wrote.

And then ‘that’ impulse came. Gahhhhh the familiar nudge, push and shove forward I know so well. That feeling launched my first vlog series which tracked my journey post cancer through to the Vancouver 5i50 triathlon in 2016. I turned my computer on.

Welcome to my next series on TinaOLife.

This is 50.

I’m three years out from five-oh and closing an old story. In the work I do as a story coach, I call this swimming between ripples.

The visual I use is this: it’s as if we come in to this world as a story stone and are dropped into the water and who we are, or our story ripples out. Every circle is the next, expanded version of the first one. Every ring another layer of who we are.

Swimming between ripples is letting go of one to follow the ease of the next. I’m going to share this next journey with you. I’ll be posting regularly here.  This is 50 with TinaO.

As always…

Thanks for listening.

In storyland, listening is loving.

xxT.