The Gift of Sixes

Birthdays are interesting.  One thing that people fail to recognize is that the day is really a celebration of the preceding year -- not really the upcoming one.  When your child is one, it's because she successfully lived through her first year of everything on the planet, not because she's about to venture into her first year on the planet.  It's recognition that you've made it through, you've persevered, you've overcome the obstacles that life has thrown into your path and you've survived to see another year.  Hopefully.  


But that first birthday...that's a day to celebrate, for sure.  There are all sorts of hazards to be had those first twelve months.  In that first year, our dependence on others for mere survival is incredible.  Others feed, clothe, house, challenge, and encourage us.  Others soothe us, nurture us, and care for us.  And in our society, we are led to believe that at some point we stop depending on others for survival.  I'm not sure that's really true.  We just become interdependent in other ways.  It's no longer about the food and housing that others provide, but about the perspective, outlet, inlet, and space we offer to one another.  Without it, I'm not sure life would be so exquisite.


So this year, for my birthday, I received an incredible gift from a dear, dear friend.  A phone call.  A birthday wish.  For almost 20 years this friend has remembered my birthday.  And this year, he told me how.  "Your birthday, two and four," he said.  


"Uh-huh," I replied.  


"It makes six."


"Uh-huh," I replied again.  


"Add two more sixes and you get..."


"Eighteen?" I thought to myself.  


"Six, six, six.  The number of the devil.  You were the devil to me for a while.  Satan."


"Oh."  Followed by laughter -- billowing, guffawing laughter.  Not because I'm uncaring, but because I get it.  I was the devil to him.  "Call me Beelzebub," I said. 


Why I was his own personal Satan is a story for him to tell.  And I'll let him if he wants to.  But I knew exactly what he meant without him explaining it.  We all have our devils in this world.  Most often it's people (in my experience) but sometimes, I'm sure, it could be a job or a situation or an illness.  The list is infinite.  


For this girl, though, my devils are usually people.  People who don't do what I think they should, don't behave in the way that's best for all concerned.  People who leave, who never show up.  People who confuse me, disappoint me, anger me.  People who don't give me what I want or take away what I think I need.  


However, the devils in my life -- like most things I'm finding -- are dual-purposed.  They are like sheep in wolves' clothing.  They're the key to my life lessons.  And the lessons they bring are like March -- they come in like lions and leave like lambs.  


The discomfort and disappointment, sadness or despair I feel in relation to these devils, in the end, always requires me to look at me.  I always end up having to take stock of my own character assets and liabilities.  But only after considerable waltzing with these maniacs.  Only after I've exhausted every alternative.  I'm a person who has to look at something from every angle, the Underworld included, before I make a move.  So I tend to stew with my Satans.  Until I can't any longer.  


When enough is finally enough (I can't ever seem to predict when that will be), I have to take stock, and be willing to grow new bits of me, improve aspects of myself and address my shortcomings, or lose bits of me altogether if they've lived their useful life.  And in this way, those harsh, abrasive, sad and uncomfortable times my devils bring help me to uncover my strengths, my insides, my truth.  


Many of my Satans still live in my life.  There is no getting rid of these people, nor would I want to.  They are my loves, my friends, my breath.  But some have had to exit.  In the final analysis, it was them or me.  And I chose me.  


I'm not proud that I've been the devil to others.  But I know enough that I'm thankful for my own Beelzebubs and how they've required me to grow, have ushered in my person.  So I'm hoping my dear friend will see the silver lining in the cloud I brought to his life.  And I'm hoping he'll maybe VISIT me on my next birthday.  


A girl could hope.