In three months, I turn 50. And it’s not that I’m scared about getting older, and menopause (we’ll certainly take a deep dive into that), it’s the mental mind fuck. Aside from every moment in my life where I feel like I’m constantly letting people down, most of all, I’ve let myself down. The young girl was a dreamer whose mind danced in the clouds as she set forth for her destination of impact, change, and greatness. The teenager who thought she had it all figured out and lived a life without regret. The young adult who started in the world with legendary ideas and talent but never seemed to follow through. The thirty-five year old single mom divorcee who rebuilt, rebuilt, and rebuilt again. And for the last ten years, it seems I’ve just gotten by. No doubt I’m grateful for my blessings, and I want to make it clear I have many, but the reality of turning 50 in three months has set in, and I’m nowhere where I thought I would be.
And that fucking sucks.
In true defensive mode, because that’s where I seem to find myself each day, I could blame it on the ADHD, long COVID, ex’s, jobs, managers, and money, and I’m sure there’s more. But the truth is, I’ve controlled my destiny all along and I must own it. Blame won’t change anything up to this point.
Three months. So now what? Disbih gonna do something about it.