Finding your own path
Dear friends,
It's Sunday night. The tree is twinkling in the living room, our puppy Dixie is gnawing on the chair I'm sitting on, and all's right with the world.
I'm officially 40 years old. Or to be correct, 40 years and two days. I've been looking forward to turning 40, and it feels as comfortable as the cozy sweater I'm wearing. 40 is the age when you stop giving a shit about what other people think and just.do.you. 40 is when 10 extra pounds don't put you in an existential crisis. 40 is when you're still somewhat young(ish), but old enough to know what's important and what isn't. I'm thrilled to have reached this milestone.
The last month has been nothing but spectacular. Not in a big way; in fact, on the outside everything looks as usual. But internally I've had a major growth spurt, and I feel more than ever that I'm doing exactly what I should be doing. I'm in the right place at the right time with the right people, and I've never been there before.
At the beginning of the year I wrote a post called We can all stop trying so hard. In it I quoted an article that I've re-read numerous times throughout the year, because I've been undergoing a similar quiet transformation like the author Jeff Goins. I highly recommend that you read it: The Most Transformative Year of My Life Had Nothing to Do with Success.
He put into words exactly how I've felt over the last year-and-a-half. And it's just been over the last several months that I started to feel at peace with myself again, and then the last few weeks have elevated that feeling and increased it tenfold. I'm not sure exactly how or why, but I'm not questioning it - I simply enjoy it.
My 30. birthday was the complete opposite. I dreaded turning 30. I was convinced that I was nowhere near to where I should be at that age (even though I wasn't quite clear about where that should be - all I knew is that I could be better), and the biggest problem I was facing 10 years ago was that I hadn't made up my mind yet about the pesky baby question. My entire social environment seemed to have conspired to collectively (and repeatedly) remind me of my age, my biological clock and the need to reproduce, because suddenly not a week went by where someone didn't ask me when I would have a baby.
It was stressful. I was just starting out in my career, had 2 teenage step-daughters at home, and was suffering from a severe (and somewhat late) case of FOMO in the girl-gang department (as in, I thought I should have one but didn't). Nothing felt right or settled. I constantly felt like something about me was wrong, like I was this awkward person that couldn't quite get life right. I was a ball of insecurities and unanswered questions, blindly spinning in circles trying to find my way.
That's why aging is such a gift to me. I'm not spinning in circles anymore, desperate for outside guidance and approval to help me find my way in life. I know my way now. It's not always easy or straightforward, but there's a path. I don't know where it leads - none of us knows that.
But my path has flowers beside it and pretty waterfalls; there are unexpected meadows once in a while with deer grazing on it; and even when it's steep and treacherous with rocks, or impossible to see around the bend, I know it's the right path. It's my path.
And that's the biggest gift of aging - finding your own path in life.
I wish all of you to find your own path. It's one of the greatest gifts you'll ever receive.
Have a great week!
Love, Miriam
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Vol. 67