76 times around the sun…here's what I know

I’ve made 76 trips around the sun.

That number stops me cold every time I say it out loud.

76 is how old my grandparents were when I spent weekends and summers on their farm. I remember them as the elders…not old, just people who had clearly been through things. I never stopped to wonder what those things were. Two world wars, the great depression, and farming the land with no guarantees were probably a few things. 

My grandmother took my mother to school in a cart pulled by a Billy goat. And I remember her holding one of those candlestick phones, telling the operator to connect her to the person she was calling. It was the kind of life that was simple and hard at the same time.

And now here I am. That elder. The one who has been through things.

Do I feel wise?

Honestly… a bit. And also, some days, not at all. But I’ve lived a full, rich life that has asked everything of me. And I'm still here. That counts for something.

So on the occasion of my 76th birthday, here is what I actually know:

I know that people get angry and it doesn't kill you

For a long time, I made myself small to keep others comfortable. I swallowed words. I kept the peace. I told myself it wasn't worth it. Then one day when I was 60 a switch turned on inside of me. Someone spoke impatiently to me, and I said: "That's unacceptable." My voice was steady.

I felt a mixture of surprise and pride. It was uncomfortable but I saw they didn't leave. They backed down. They gave me more respect. I spent decades afraid of a moment that turned out to take about nine seconds.

I know that overthinking is not a character flaw. It's intelligence with nowhere to go

I once agonized for weeks over a sofa. Weeks. Asking myself if I had bought the right one over and over. And I ended up loving that sofa.

My overthinking wasn’t wrong. It was doing its best to protect me in a world where I had never trusted my instincts. Learning to trust what I know has been one of the hardest, most radical things I've done.

I know that being brave doesn't mean not being afraid

My two sons went to war in Afghanistan. I learned to manage my fear each day and to keep going, because there was nothing else to do. That is the most human thing I know: you don’t wait until you feel ready. You do it afraid, and the doing changes you into a person who knows they can do hard things.

I know that the body keeps score and demands honesty

I've watched myself stay silent until the silence made me sick. I've seen other women do the same. The body isn’t subtle. It will find a way to say what your mouth won't. I've learned to listen before it raises its voice.

I know that relationships ending is not the same as failing

I tried. I tried again. I took the blame. I was confused. Eventually, I learned to stop automatically wondering what I did wrong every time something went sideways. Not everything is yours to carry. This took a long time to learn. I'm still learning it.

I know that what you think of me is none of my business

This one still makes me laugh. The amount of my life I spent managing what others thought of me...sheesh. I realized that most people are mostly thinking about themselves, not me.

I know that I’m a storyteller

I can feel it in my bones… maybe from my grandmother, who recounted so many stories from her life and others', or maybe it’s because Southerners are good at telling long stories. I don't know which one is true. 

But the thread is there, and I've spent my life following the stories into other people's stories, holding their hearts as carefully as I'd hold anything precious. That is the work I was made for.

I know that gratitude is the best medicine for anything

When things go wrong, I’ve learned that focusing on what is going right can ease your mind and help you realize what’s really important. And that you can always find something in your life that’s good. Gratitude is an antidote for depression and even anxiety.

I know I’m weighted down by the state of this world…genuinely, gut-level disturbed by it. And I’ve learned that the answer is not to go numb, and not to burn out on rage, but to stay grounded in myself and keep showing up.

A woman who knows herself cannot be easily erased. I know that we have to know ourselves on a deep level…the good, the bad, and the ugly. We have to celebrate who and what we are and change the things we don’t like about ourselves.

I know that done is better than perfect. Always

I know that 8 grandchildren is the most astonishing gift of my life

and that the grandmother I want to be is a teaching grandmother…one who shows them what she knows, who she is, and what’s possible. And at the same time, I want to be the gran who listens and understands, the one they come to when they’re confused or just need to talk.

I know a lot. I also know I know almost nothing. Both of these things are completely true at the same time.

And here is what I most want you to know, on this particular trip around the sun:

We don't get to choose the hard things that come for us.

But we do get to choose what we do with ourselves in the middle of them.

I choose joy. I choose gratitude. I choose the full range of this life…the hard, the tender, the daring, the dark, the astonishing. All of it.

My son Rob once asked me: "Mom, what will your legacy be?"

I didn't have an answer then. I have a better one now.

I want to be remembered as someone who squeezed every last drop out of her time here. Who helped others believe in themselves as powerful, capable, and human. And that we can’t wait to be who we were always meant to be, or wait to have what we want. Life is way too short to wait.

That's the work. That's the legacy. That's the 76th trip around the sun.

With love and a whole lot of hard-won knowing,

Jo ❤️