Life Really Does Begin At 50

I turned the grand old age of 50 in March this year. Thats half a century that I have been me.

The age of 50 didn’t get off to a very good start, and like most ages I have been, this one seemed no different. 

Same old shite, just a new year to deal with it. 

Little did I know what was to come. 

After burying trauma for over 40 years, the lid finally blew off. 

Spectacularly.

as if by magic, Maggie the springer spaniel gifted me the perfect image for this blog…

The shit finally hit the fan, and everybody ended up covered in it.

The Narcissistic parents were covered in it, the abusive family members got covered in it, and even the people who were never meant to get covered in it, also got covered in it. 

the culprit…

Because the nasty shit that had been poisoning me for over 40 years was back in its rightful place, with its owners, I am now as free as a bird. I am no longer carrying around a huge amount of poisoned shit, which leaves me free to live the life that I should have always had. 

A life free from the shit that abuse, guilt, and trauma can leave on a person indefinitely, especially if they aren’t aware that they are carrying it. 

Thankfully my eyes finally opened at the age of 50 and 3/4, after a near brush with death, ‘better late than never’ as my old grandad used to say.

My life truly has begun at the age of 50. I am so excited by my next path on this journey that we call life.