So I’ve been thinking a lot about my birthday next week — I’ll be 38.
And while I’ve been moaning about the whole number 40 looming in a couple of years and pulling out grey hairs that keep popping up, I realized that time is still passing — each and every second worrying about a sheer number takes me away from the now.
The reality is this:
I’m in the best shape I’ve ever been in — ever. Even when I weighed less and went to several aerobics classes a day, I was not healthy. Now, I’m healthy, (mostly) fit and still on my weight loss journey. I’m doing things today that two years ago weren’t physically possible. And it feels SO good and SO liberating to get up and do what I want physically.
I’m blessed. So blessed. I have so many wonderful people in my personal life. Family. Friends. And hilarious co-workers who make me laugh hysterically daily. And we have amazing food days here (which generally goes against the previous paragraph, but hey, nobody is perfect and everybody is allowed a treat!)
I stand in awe and wonder over this life — there are days it’s so beautiful it renders me to tears. Then there are days it’s the opposite and I’m in tears of despair. But that’s life. The spice of life. I’m learning that BOTH are ok.
And it IS ok to be sad — or worried — about a number. I just don’t want to get stuck there. (I can hear the groans from here…but remember you once were my age and probably had the same thoughts.)
For my 39th year I’m going to be doing the #39List — a list of 39 things to do before I’m 40. But it won’t be revealed until I’m 39.
I think I just might do a #38List as well.
So that’s my rambling blog post for today.