Life from the other side of 35

So I've had a week to get used to the idea that I'm 35. There. I said it. For some people, I'm sure your reaction is something along the lines of, "So what? It's just a number." Well a week ago, heck, even a year ago, I was dreading this horrible milestone. But it seems the lead up was worse that the actuality of being 35...at least that's what the last seven days have told me.

Here's why:

• I don't seem to care too much about being considered young. I'm happy, for the first time, to be my age because it means I'm just here, now. I'm not trying to look older to impress someone to get into a bar, and I'm not trying to be cool to satisfy my self-consciousness because I'm no longer able to identify with 20-year-olds.
• I have felt less compelled to make the effort to appear still passable for 25. If it happens, I'm sure not going to be insulted, however, I'm happy to look and more importantly, feel good for myself. Any self-improvements are purely self-motivated out of pride rather than pressure.
• I can have martinis and wine earlier in the day without appearing like a college drunk.
• I have been at life long enough to be taken seriously. At least by the people that matter, and most importantly, by me. I now take my goals and aspirations seriously, because they are an eventual reality, not just dreams.
• Life is too long or too short, depending how you want to look at it, to spend it doing something you don't like.
• The pressure is off...finally. It's a weird age; the world is no longer preoccupied with my generation. We aren't the Gen Y-ers or Millennials who are making their parents broke by living at home till they are 30 while spending 6 years in university only to graduate still not knowing what they want to do. We aren't really Generation X who are still working and building the double-income life with retirement on the horizon in 10 to 15 years. We aren't the baby boomers who are either still working to live or just learning to live without work. We are in between and I love it. Under the radar. Undetectable.
• I have to explain my behaviour far less often. Or maybe it's that I just don't care to explain my behaviour anymore. Either way, it works for me!
• My apathy works for me. I'm not being lazy, I've just decided some things like doing laundry during the weekdays or avoiding housework when it's nice out are justifiable because I've decided other things are more important, like my family and my sanity.
• I feel more comfortable with myself. I know how cheesy that reads but I'm being honest. The one thing in the past week I've noticed is that the dread of this approaching birthday milestone has been lifted, and what remains is a sort of zen-like calm and realization that things are ok, I'm ok. 
• I feel less fearful of making mistakes or worrying about how people view me. I'll make mistakes but I can learn from them, and it's not the end of the world. :-)

Now it's time to get out and enjoy the sun on this gorgeous long weekend, breakfast dishes be damned! Have a good one!

Do you have things you've learned as you got older? Please share in the comments below!

Sunday night musings

So another weekend has come and gone and here I am on Sunday night, trying to make the most of the final few of the forty-eight hours we are given to recuperate for another week. But instead of indulging my ego and drinking a bottle of red wine to avoid thinking of Monday morning, I'm drinking wine and using this time to be productive and nurture my goals and think about what I'm going to do this week to work towards my dreams (that is to be a published writer and contributor to whoever will have me!).

Seriously though, I'm tired of feeling defeated on Sunday night because somehow, over the weekend, my goals and dreams didn't materialize in time for the alarm on Monday morning. Maybe this change in attitude is partially due to a fantastic dinner I had with a dear friend whom I've known for now more than half of my life. We were catching up after not seeing each other since January (an issue deserving of its own post), talking about our lives and what we want to be doing and it became so obvious that despite our dreams and possessing the abilities to achieve those dreams, we hold ourselves back, self-sabotage and procrastinate, all while watching other people with less experience or skill succeed.

It got me thinking about something I think we overlook on a daily basis - how important it is to encourage each other to pursue our dreams. I will be the first to admit, that until recently if I saw someone, especially another woman, who was successful and appeared to have what I wanted, I was so jealous. That jealousy manifested itself into hostility often towards people I barely knew. It was as if I was looking at life like there was a finite amount of success to go around and each time I saw someone else who appeared to have it, it somehow lessened my chances of succeeding. It's embarrassing to admit and is petty and completely unproductive. What I should have focused on was drawing on their experience and learning about how they achieved their success. My sister gave me a proverbial kick in the pants this past week in that regard, pointing out how ridiculous it is not to learn from the people I have around me for fear of looking like I don't know what I'm doing. As she said, people are usually pretty happy to discuss their own success, so after this post is done, I'm going to take her advice and send an email to someone who has achieved what appears to be success I would like to replicate.

The bottom line: We need to believe in ourselves but we also need to know others believe in us too. Having girlfriends and family who follow up (read: stalk you) and make sure that you are actively working on your goals (read: not procrastinating) is essential to succeed. I recently had my husband, my sister and my cousin all asking me about my progress on finishing an article I had been working on for two months. They were interested in knowing how I was doing, but more importantly, knew that eventually, I would tire of hearing myself make excuses for why I hadn't finished. (I am happy to say, I've finally finished the article and sent it to the travel editor at the Globe and Mail last week. While it would be nice to be published, I'm just so happy and extremely proud of the finished article regardless of if it ends up in the paper or not).

So now I am returning the favour. I've promised my dear friend with whom I dined on Friday night, that I will haunt her via text message, checking in to see if she set aside time to work on her business plan for a business that is almost undoubtedly going to succeed. You know who you are and I'm coming to get you! As a very smart man once said to me, you owe it to yourself to do this.

When you're in it, you're in it

When you're in it, you're in it. It's hard to see around it. A rut. A funk. The dumps. What ever you call it, when that's where you are, that's all you can see. I'm in it right now. Actually, I'm on my way back out. But still not totally out yet.

What am I rambling about? Not being able to see the forest for the trees, but even more significant, not being able to imagine ever seeing, being, living, feeling anything differently than I am right now. And I can't really remember it being any other way before either. Like I said, when you're in it, you're really frigging in it.

Maybe it's this time of year...the cusp of spring, the beginning of new life. We aren't there yet, but it's coming and we feel it's imminence in the air, in the longer days and warmer sun. I feel anticipation and anxiousness, but mostly, I feel change is around the corner. I know come summer, when I go through my 'New Year's' phase, I don't want to be in the same spot I was last year. Not that it was bad. It wasn't. It's just not what I want. So I write. I write and think. I write and plan. And then I write some more. Like my husband says, it's like throwing spaghetti at a wall; sooner or later something is bound to stick. So I persist. I hope I have something to show for it soon.

The art of being honest

It’s messy. Why is January so tough despite promising myself I wouldn’t let it be this year? Why do I only notice things are going downhill when they’re already near the bottom? Why, despite consciously promising myself to be as positive as possible, I’m still feeling/looking at things negatively? Why does my subconscious prefer to disagree with my conscious decision to ‘enjoy winter’? Why do I feel pathetic even writing this down when I know other people have tragic and horrible things to deal with? Why do I feel so uninspired at a time when I have so many enticing ideas to work on? Is it that I feel uninspired or discouraged? Why is it that all I want to do is curl up into a ball and shut out the world and be inside my head? Why can’t I sleep well? Why has it been so hard to start back at the gym? Do I need a life coach? Is it indulgent that I want one? It is because I am lazy?

I like being by myself. I like the silence of winter. I like the image of sun breaking over a cold field. I like the frost and the cold when I am warm. I like the welcome of a cabin cushioned at the lakeside with snow-covered trees. I want to sit at a window in the loft of this cabin, in the morning when the light is pale, looking out at a frozen lake. Waiting. Thinking. Typing. Contemplating. Wondering. Dreaming. I have visions of that desk and the vista beyond the window. I see it in summer, I see it in fall, and now in winter. I see this as a place my mind retreats to where I think I will be inspired so much that work will be no effort at all. I have things to say, ideas to share, opinions to broadcast, but they are a jumbled, disorganized mess. I am not sure which way is up, what comes first or where to begin. Begin at the beginning would be the most logical place. And where ever I start is the beginning. My ideas are all over the road. So am I. What is up?