Good evening, friends. It’s been Gemini season for two days, and I’m eager to absorb the breezy lightness and intellectual stimulation offered by it. On my way there, though, I’ve been reflecting, doing this whole sweeping review. This assessment. A taking-stock. Things have been generally good and even exciting, but there’s also an element of heaviness in the picture. Someone close to me is still lost in crisis, and their struggles give me pause. How did I come to be where I am? I’m thinking out loud here, spilling a segue from thoughts unfinished in my head.

Born in San Francisco and raised in San Jose, I found California to be cold and impersonal. Now I live in Arizona’s Sonoran Desert in a vast metro area named for a sacred firebird of mythological renown, a place that is the antithesis of the Bay Area. 33 years ago I came to Phoenix on a whim, but I stayed here to rise from the ashes a hundred times, as if I knew I’d go down in flames over and over in the process of navigating life. Emboldened by cyclical rebirth, I’ve acted recklessly a few times too many. I’ve since learned. I’ve settled down in the embers, and I’m enjoying their warmth. I’m basking, and it’s delightful. I believe I know how my desert tortoise feels when he comes out of hibernation and sits still on the rocks for hours, absorbing the sunlight.

It’s incredible to me that I’ve managed to rack up the decades despite my follies. As grateful as I am to be around, though, I sometimes feel frantic about growing older when I consider all that I need to get done, still. Look, I’m 55. Sometimes it’s hard to keep calm about aging when smooth jazz renditions of my high school rock jams come on in the elevator and I realize that I still don’t have my shit together… not as far as I’m concerned, at least.

Like everyone, I’m a deeply flawed person. I suspect that I take this to heart more harshly than I should, and I try to remind myself of this. We tend to over-criticize ourselves, as if it isn’t hard enough taking criticism from others for our life choices, both personally and generally. Sometimes, we even have to deal with people criticizing us for doing what’s right.

For example, like many childfree people, I’ve been chastised for my decision to not have kids, indicted for being “selfish” – a song-and-dance accusation. Let the self-appointed womb police say what they will. Society can trust that I’ve done it a favor by staying out of the gene pool. Society should thank me for never having kids. I was in college when the egg donor people rejected my eggs because my phone interview revealed that my biological father had a certain mental illness. (I ended up selling my plasma, instead. It wasn’t nearly as lucrative.)

Society is a mess what with the homeless falling left and right through the cracks of social order (speaking to our failures on an institutional level). Why contribute to the problem by spawning a potential Dahmer? I wouldn’t have kids knowing that I have serious mental illness in my genes any more than I’d own a firearm knowing that I have PTSD.

At any rate, regardless of my reason, no matter what that might be, I won’t be convinced that the totality of the experiences I’ve lived as a human on this planet is invalidated by the fact that I’ve never had babies. Don’t allow others to convince you that you, your life, and your experiences are worthless.

Just as strangers will criticize without knowing the scope of the reasoning behind our choices – as if it’s any of their business – there may be those who know us who will exact criticism in personal attacks. The unfortunate fact of the matter is that humans can be wretched, just petty and mean, and they will go to lengths to try to hurt us. Now, I want to direct this to a particular person, my loved one who probably won’t see this: Don’t. Give. Up. I’m sending this energy to you through this post, hoping that you’ll receive it even without reading these words.

As Winston Churchill said, if you find yourself going through hell, keep going. (…unless you want to stay there.)

Buddhism teaches us that right from the beginning, life is suffering. We are born into it. Life isn’t fair, nor is it easy and light. But carrying heavy things can make you stronger. I appreciate this truth increasingly as time goes on. I would love to run back to my angry, angst-ridden 15-year-old self and say, “Hey! You’ve got some pretty absurd and unbelievable hardships coming up in your future, but you will find the fire in your belly and the steel running down your back. (In the words of American Horror Story’s The Axeman.) You will persevere.”

Keep going. You will get through. The best way out is through.

I hope this helps… someone, anyone, one of you, if not the person who led me into this contemplation. You and your achievements carry meaning and worth. This is a cliché, but it’s true: No one can have the power to bring you down if you don’t give it to them, and this includes your own self. You’re not meant to be pulled into self-sabotage, or lured into self-hated. I want to remind you, gently, that the personal growth you achieve through your experiences is a triumph.

I love you.