A woman on the verge.

I’ve been attempting to create this post for over an hour. I logged in, I clicked “New Post,” and then…I did everything but write this post. I relocated a few stray containers from ill-fitting locations in my apartment to the tiny closet in my bedroom. I meticulously washed each and every soiled dish, glass, and utensil. I straightened the pillows on the couch. Then I re-straightened them a few more times for good measure.

After all that, I decided to make myself a piping hot pot of soup. At 12:30 a.m. I ate it watching Malcolm in the Middle. You should know, first and foremost, that I detest watching television. Secondly, you should be advised that even opening a can of Campbell’s and dumping it into a saucepan over a protected flame constitutes way too much cooking for me. Especially after midnight. Yet I’d rather do any and all of that instead of writing this post. Go figure.

I don’t even want to write it now. And I’m writing it.

It’s not as if there’s anything to fear here. In fact, Sunday marks the anniversary of the most incredible, most momentous occasion a human can experience while inhabiting the flesh: my birthday. No disrespect to those suffering bloody nightmares climaxing in slitted throats about the aging process, but after age 25, I cannot quite dread earning a few more notches on the life experience belt any longer.

So, my aversion to Sunday derives from an aspect a bit more acute. You see, moving onward in years puts a heavy hand squarely upon our backs and forces us to contemplate the past – whether we desire it or not – before hurtling full throttle toward the future. After all, there are lessons to be learned from the mistakes we’ve made, the decisions we’ve settled upon, and how we managed the hand we’ve been dealt.

In truth, I’m not such a hotshot when it comes to retrospect. It makes my insides cramp and causes me to become swaddled uncomfortably in the past. Why? Because let’s face it – Year 28 of Fayza’s Time on Earth was, oh, um, a composition of about 42.9% frustration and disappointment, 37.2% self-doubt, and 9.65% dizzying nausea (the other 10.25% contains miscellaneous sentiments best thorougly researched within the confines of a thesaurus).

But folks, I’m not copping the role of your garden variety pessimist here! Oh, no, no, no! I’ve got the facts to prove it! However, you don’t need those; generalizations will suffice. So trust me when I say that my 28th year was so full of gnarled tribulations, potholed roadways, and serrated edges that I even found it difficult to put the pen to paper (or the keys to the keyboard) more often than not throughout the course of the last 365 days. And that, my friends, is highly uncharacteristic of yours truly.

But I’m a reasonable girl, and in my waning days of 28, my truths are all unceremoniously splayed about my feet. And the importance of such a lingering backward glance never fails to successfully nudge me toward skipping in pursuit of my greener pasture. No matter how begrudgingly I go.

In celebration of this impending milestone, I present to myself (and you, while we’re at it) this compilation:

Monthly Lessons Fayza Learned
While at the Ripe Old Age of 28
by Fayza

October 2007
Hearts get broken. But if they’re never permitted to be utilized in such a manner that allows them to be broken, they might as well be non-existent. So using the heart? Never regrettable, no matter the outcome.

November 2007
When there’s a risk to take, by golly, it’s irresistible. You might as well take it. You’re going to take it. Or forever hold your timid self silent.

December 2007
Attempts to quash the travel bug only serve to make matters exponentially worse. Andale, andale!

January 2008
Doing that which we believe we cannot do only proves that we are so, so much stronger than we ever, ever realized. Forward motion only.

February 2008
Those whom you trust with your future, your truths, and your happiness in life can and will tell you lies, and betray you heartlessly, ruthlessly, and deceptively. They will derive joy in gleefully taking it all away.

March 2008
When you gut tells you to run, you are allowed a free pass to run. It’s okay.

April 2008
Not all questions have answers.

May 2008
Some decisions, although retrospectively imprudent, are ones you’ll never regret.

June 2008
It is unwise to turn down a second chance at happiness.

July 2008
Mind over matter, body, space, reality, and time. Mind above all else.

August 2008
Once you turn the feeling off, it’s simply not going back on again. No matter how hard you try. It’s futile.

September 2008
Certain friendships demand more than you can provide. It’s okay to want to be able to provide it, and it’s okay to try, but it’s not okay to permit said friendships to cloud your better judgment. You can’t and don’t have to overextend yourself in attempting to make provisions.

October 2008
I am worthy.

Here’s to Year 29.