The eve of forty-one has arrived.  I remember this day was very hard for me last year: the last day of my thirties.  And now, I’m sitting here looking back on the year that was forty.  I don’t know where the year has gone.

Admittedly, much of it was a blur.  I feel like a lot of time was spent working; even if I wasn’t at work, I was still working.  That’s something I’m trying to get better with: the work-life balance.  And in recent weeks, I’m already doing better there.  Nothing comes home with me on the weekends. Sunday is a much more enjoyable day when it isn’t being used to prep for the day and week ahead work-wise.

In many ways, I don’t see that much has really changed over the last 365 days.  I still don’t feel my age and, from what most people say, I don’t really look it either.  I still get asked to show ID when I buy liquor from time to time.  To see myself in my forties just doesn’t seem real. Maybe it’s just some kind of alternative fact… 😉 No, I know it’s true.  I’ve seen the birth certificate.  And I do have the white hairs showing my aging self.

I’ve been doing a lot of reading and audiobook listening and thinking lately.  The plan is to try to make a few changes (not a HUGE amount where I get overwhelmed and end up doing nothing…just a few important changes) this year so that 365 days from now, I don’t feel like I’ve again gotten nowhere.  February begins the experiment. I’m going to try to do what I know because truth is, I know all this stuff.  I know what’s good for me but like so many of us, even though I know it, I get lazy or want to remain comfortable or it’s just too much effort… I haven’t quite uncovered my excuses exactly but I do know that I haven’t really been in control of myself, of my life. I’ve always been in reaction. I’ve always allowed the thoughts of others to really direct my actions.  But I know I’m better than I’ve been demonstrating. I’m stronger than my food cravings.  I’m tougher than my anxieties.  I’m braver than my fears.  And I’m a smart girl who can think for herself and take responsibility for her actions (and inactions).  At forty-one, it’s about time this Peter Pan grows up.