Post Birthday Blog

            I did it. I survived the fifty-seventh year. That may not sound like much, but for me it was a big deal. Fifty-seven was sort of a curse that I tried my best to turn around. I think I succeeded. I also think my mother would be proud of me, and that’s an important part of the success. Mom didn’t get her fifty-seventh year, so I tried to live mine in the best way I could as a tribute to her.

            I had twelve big goals. I hit most of them, got close on a few, and will continue working on others. It dawned on me about three months in that I had started something that is unending. Once you make a vow to intentionally live your best year, how can you stop? It’s not like I don’t want my fifty-eighth year to be just as good, or better. I can’t just say, “Yep, fifty-seven was awesome. Now I’ll have a mediocre year.”

            It has been fun congratulating myself on my success. It has been even more fun to have friends and family congratulate me on my success. But really – didn’t I just do what should be done? Have we become so complacent as to think doing one’s best is out of the ordinary?

            The past year proved to be more than just living my best life. It was a year-long therapy session. I became extremely introspective and somewhat withdrawn. I noticed that in order to make the changes I wanted to make I had to spend quite a bit of time with me; serious time. I learned a lot. I hope I will remember it always.

            Now I’m living my fifty-eighth year. It will be even better than fifty-seven. That’s how it’s supposed to be. Can’t believe I didn’t know that. Or, maybe I knew and just forgot.