November twenty fourth, nineteen sixty four was the day that I popped out. I was two months earlier than my ETA and so birth was my first display of the INTJ and an incurable condition that causes me to be early for everything. ( of course this often puts me at odds with the men in my house that have the opposing condition which the primary symptom is the inability to understand the significance of the minute hand on a clock.) I was born interrupting a holiday and unlike the typical thanksgiving turkey, I weighed in at a mere four pounds, which may have something to do with my stature now being just slight of five feet. My mother, who had lost several children at this point did her share of praying over my "tank" (the incubator that was to be my first home probably sealed the "I" for introvert in my INTJ because from the beginning I have liked closed quiet places where no one can touch me. The rough beginning didn't stop there.
After a brief time home from the hospital I returned having pneumonia, my parents rushing me into the hospital in a panic. Upon arrival back I had turned a lovely shade of blue which could have been my end except for a quick thinking doctor and an oxygen tank. Being "blue" can result in the death of several brain cells, and in my case they were the cells reserved for doing math. Oh well I didn't need them anyway.
A rough start to this life, but when my mother tells this story she always punctuates the end by telling me how I was her miracle baby and how special I am.
So today is my birthday. Today I am forty. And what a ride it has been.
I started down this blogging road of self reflection and realized that anyone who bothers to read this are at risk of being bored out of their minds. So if you venture forth consider yourself warned because the next few posts are going to seem utterly self absorbed (more that usual, which is pretty bad). Consider yourself warned.