So I’m in my fifties…

And it’s time to take stock.  If I’m lucky I’ve got 25 productive years left on this planet and that scares the SHIT out of me.  Don’t get me wrong–I’m aware that I’ve got a lot going for me…I’m smart, capable, inquisitive, likable enough.  But I’m also too plump and dimply, critical and mean, and I carry around a big bag of regrets that color my perspective and relationships. Not always pretty.

So after years of self-reflection (yeah, yeah I know myself blah blah blah), it’s time to change the things I can.   There are plenty of things I’ve come to accept that I’m okay with: I’m brash and sarcastic, opinionated, swear like a fucking sailor and occasionally inappropriate.  The real battles, or opportunities for growth (therapist-talk [cue eye-roll]), though, are the following: my weight, my attitude and my bag of bullshit.

So there ya go.  This is my journey.  God help me.

So I’m in my fifties…

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