Adding another year to my complicated self
- Melissa Herrera: Not Waiting for Friday
- October 13, 2024
- 708
On Friday I turn 56. Today I’m going to vote early at the Stark County Board of Elections. There’s only three things I want for my birthday, and that’s an election season without misinformation filling our ear holes, ceasefire where war persists and a chocolate cake with cream filling. I’m not asking for much.
I’m taking myself in to vote early today. I want to select my choice, have it recorded and breathe a sigh of relief it’s done. I have never wanted it to be over more than in 2024. The commercials might put me under quicker than anything. If I have to hear that narrator’s voice (cue movie trailer guy’s voice from the ‘80s) one more time, I might scream. I may have already screamed, but only in the comfort of my own home. I’m already screaming because of the Cleveland Browns, so it’s all the same.
I’m not sure what we’re doing for my birthday, but I know it’ll include a long ride, maybe a fall market, and some good food — as long as I can get out and see the leaves turning. I remember a birthday four years ago when we took backroads to Coshocton. It was a dramatic day what with the light drizzle and overcast fall skies. We stopped at a yard sale on a curve in the middle of nowhere and ended up eating at Roscoe Village. If I’m remembering, we made it home in time to see the Browns win that day.
Another hurricane is raging as I write this, and something as trivial as my birthday doesn’t seem important. But this world turns year after year, and with it our minute joys and sorrows continue. If we could slow the spin down, hovering over the painful spots — taking time to speak soothing, sensible words and put solid actions into place — the world might be a better place for all to exist in.
I would beg of us to listen to solid information and lay down the conspiracies that seek to worm their way in and root. The apple rots when worms bury themselves deep in the flesh.
As I add another year to myself, I reflect on where we were a year ago and what has changed.
Last October we spent time in Mexico for a month. George’s parents are aging, and each year we have them is special. We ate slow meals, visited open air markets and traveled to the Oaxacan coast. We sold our home and moved to the city. George also had quintuple bypass surgery, of which he is healing quite well. He said he is “awakening” once again.
I have had another year of writing this column and not finishing my next book. I find myself in a bit of a writing slump, but I aim to shake off the cobwebs and get to work. Our home is cozy, and my writing room awaits, although I’ve found myself writing my columns on the notes app of my phone every week. Everything changes in technology and our daily rhythms.
I sometimes feel as if it’s my job to celebrate everyone else and forget about myself. The whole “if I don’t plan something for myself no one will” tries to sink its claws into my brain and not let me enjoy my day.
Do you ever do so much for others you cannot remember what your own likes and wants are? We were never meant to disappear into making others happy.
We are worthy of celebrating ourselves and even buying our own birthday gifts if we want. I have a friend who bought herself a deep freeze for her birthday, and she’s never been happier. We can’t expect others to make us happy — we have to grab those reins for ourselves and steer them in the direction we want to go.
I’m sending this column in at the midpoint of my 50s. When it comes out in print, I’ll be on the other side of that point. It doesn’t scare me. Not doing what I’m meant to be doing does.