40 going on 30

Today is my 40th birthday. I don't feel old. I feel amazing!
When I was 18, I thought 40 was incredibly old, and that when you get to be that age, you are on the downhill slope. I felt like by the time I was 40, I'd have went on all my adventures and it would be time to give it up. Give in. Buy a minivan. Purchase matching track suits with my significant other. Buy t-shirts with big ugly flowers and cute animals on them.
Boy, was I wrong.
I spent a number of years in a very dark place. I was a very tortured person for a long time. Part of it had to do with the fact that I had no closure with my mother's case. Part of it was being a doormat. Part of it was to do with the fact that I didn't have a voice, self-confidence and was running in the opposite direction of my true purpose. I tipped the scales, at my heaviest weight, at 440 lbs.  I was a size 46 and had to order my clothes from a catalog. Food was my most loyal confidant, and it never told me I was stupid, worthless, a human trainwreck.
Today, I realize how blessed I am. I have made some mistakes in my life. Huge mistakes. At times, my lack of common sense and good judgment manifested in crappy boyfriends, rash decisions and a lack of control over my emotions. It's incredible though, that through all that, I was able to grow and heal. God gave me the tools to build a life of my own. I was able to find the beauty amidst the tragedy. Through my mistakes and sad times, I was able to find compassion for others and myself.
I stopped living to eat. I stopped wanting people to validate me. I began appreciating even the smallest things I had. I knew I couldn't expect more out of life if I wasn't willing to put in the work. If I didn't appreciate the sun, the rain, the cool breeze, a smile from a stranger, the ability to walk on my own; I would never be able to truly appreciate the bigger blessings to come.
God humbles us when we become self-righteous, bitter, angry. If we forget how blessed we are to be alive, to live another day, to breathe, we won't be cognizant enough to know that we have personal power. We decide who affects our day. We decide who impacts our decisions. We decide how we react to the world. Personally, my mistakes, I'm owning them. I don't have many regrets, as those mistakes brought me to the person I am today.
When my sister was terminal with cancer, she made me promise her a few things. Nothing like Renee to use her situation to guilt me into making promises I had to keep. Renee made me promise to get the weight off, to get my degree, to find my happiness. She encouraged me to get counseling. She said I needed to stop being stubborn and find a good man. But if I didn't find a good man, she wanted me to promise that I would learn to be okay being alone.
Renee, she was wise.
In the six years since Renee has passed, I have lost almost 200 lbs. I got my criminal justice degree. I went into therapy, and found a medication that helped balance me out. I jettisoned the negative people from my life, and began speaking my mind. I found my voice, my purpose.
I am in the editing stages of my memoir. I started teaching myself German. I became an ordained minister.
I also found an amazing man, but only after a year not dating and concentrating on finding myself.
I owe a debt of gratitude to my sister. Renee saw that I was not really living, but existing. My joys were rare and far between. Maybe in those last weeks, she could see into heaven. She could see that her purpose and mine were decided in heaven before we were ever born. Renee's purpose was to birth her three babies, and she was a gift to me.
Sometimes when I think about our talks in her hospital room, I think about her staring at me. I'd be painting her toenails or massaging her feet. We'd be laughing at some lame joke, or reminiscing about the hell-raising we did as kids. I would look up from painting her toes, and she'd be staring at me and smiling. Then she'd normally say something very insightful, or incredibly soulful, and I'd know that she was halfway between this world and the next. I'd feel another presence in her room. An unseen loving presence would surround us with warmth and love. It was probably our mom or grandma. Still, Renee was communing with angels and our departed loved ones on the regular. In those moments, I felt like whatever she was saying to me was a message from above. It was incredibly beautiful.
Renee taught me that a person didn't have to be perfect, and that it wasn't necessary to subject ourselves to mistreatment from anyone. She taught me to speak my mind. She taught me that a backbone was necessary to weather the storms, and I wasn't any less worth loving because I refused to submit. I love her for that. She's still with me, watching over me. She watches over her babies. The best part of it is that she doesn't hurt anymore.
Renee compelled me in her last days to find my own healing. Thanks, Sissy.