The woods are lovely, dark and deep,   
But I have promises to keep,   
And miles to go before I sleep,   
And miles to go before I sleep.
 (Robert Frost)

 

I have no idea what I’m doing. I just know that I’m running out of time to do it. And I want that to be a positive realisation.

I’m single, living out of a suitcase, I take little pills to help with ceaseless anxiety, and a soul-sucking job (that pays well for my soul, at least). I have raised an amazing child, but I’m bearing down on an empty nest and a blank canvas. Everything is in flux. And I must hold myself accountable for all of that (hence blog).

Being 40 is like that point on a very long walk, before you’re halfway, and  you start to feel tired and you’re still nowhere near where you wanted to be, and you start to doubt that you have enough energy to get there. And it’s too late to go back, and you know you have no choice but to forge on to the end. And mostly, I’m walking alone and feel like I wore the wrong shoes.

The photo is of my nephew but if you look closely, you can see my Dad on his mobility scooter behind the tree. He had a stroke almost 10 years ago, when he was 63. He lost the majority of movement in his right side and most of his speech. This has taught me two very important lessons: one day it will be too late and sometimes you have to live with ‘too late’ for a very long time.

So if you’re 40 and not on the way to achieving what you want from life, you better get a move on. The question is no longer “what do you want to be when you grow up?” but “who do you want to be before you stop growing?”.

I want to have the kind of great relationships that my friends have – I want someone to hold my hand. I want to write something I’m proud of, that people read. I want to do something that makes a difference to other people. I want to be happy.

And I have time. I just need to find the right path. And get moving.

A note for younger readers: in the prehistoric days of the internet, we had chat rooms and you couldn’t upload photos. Everything was text and you identified yourself with your asl: age, sex, location. The acronym is still used today but I suspect only by people who remember chat rooms and AOL Messenger.