Turning 40 and waking up.

I woke up startled this morning.

I've been having a deep sense that I'm curious if most people have who are about to turn 40 feel. The one that wakes you up and makes you ask - did I do everything I was supposed to in my life? Am I living the life that aligns with my values/hopes/dreams/beliefs? Is my time running out?

And sitting dormant, quieted down by days, months, years of routine is the simple fact that I've left one thing unresolved. One thing that I regret not doing. One thing that I know deep in the marrow of my bones needs to get out there: my story. My story about Ryan and how grief has shaped me into who I am. It's as though I've built an iceberg around those emotions and feelings, locking them away, forgotten about.

Then this week, I woke up to the unsettled uneasiness I have about turning 40 realizing that it's linked to my story. And I felt a crack deep into the heart of that berg, loosening up unresolved feelings.

Yet, I'm not scared. I'm not afraid of that ice melting, exposing a pain and feeling so real and urethral.  Grief is a journey that has so many layers that no wonder it isn't talked about. No wonder we have a hard time encompassing it's depth. But more than running straight into the unknown, I'm more afraid that I haven't shared my story with others so that it can help them with their ice bergs of humanness.

My time is running out. I've got to give this everything I've got. I've got to get my story out that's burning a hole into the middle of my iceberg.