As I reach age 45 in three days I desperately want new life resuscitated into these old bones. A full-on makeover, if you will. Body, mind and spirit. I cannot be the me of old any longer. I refuse. The complacent trajectory I’ve become accustom to needs immediate dismantling.
I’ll admit it. It’s pretty cheesy to go into New Years Day or a birthday and state all the changes that will be made. That being said, I do believe in setting goals. It’s the only way to achieve what you want. But the notion that another number on the years calendar comes along and I morph into a new entity? Hogwash.
But there’s nothing wrong with striving. I always wish to be better, it’s just the follow through is sometimes weak. And I know change can be done. I’ve just lost twelve pounds because I’m sick of being overweight and I’m finally doing something about it. I still have four times that to go but I’ll get there.
I want to improve interpersonally with those that are around me the most. The qualifiers? Family and work associates. The place I am at is the place I’m supposed to be at this exact point in my life. And so I should be making the best of it, only better than I have been.
I want to look in the mirror and feel good about myself. Barely tolerating oneself for years isn’t where I want to be anymore, not that it ever was. There are good things around corners for me. Seasons of bliss and moments to be grateful. I want to be ready for them. Groomed. Fit. Aware. Unabashed. Transparent. Here.
45 years into this mess called life and I’m still rolling the dice and moving my game piece forward. Sometimes sideways but I’m moving. The days just got longer which I’m receiving as an early birthday gift. And on it goes. Thank you to all who read me on the regular and to those that are new, welcome! Blessings to you all as we advance together.