Happiness-can-exist-only2

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I am being overly reflective lately. Looking in the mirror at my 42-year old self and wondering who is that I see? I am running out of time to be the person I thought I’d have time to be. Is there ever a time to put your dreams aside and start living your reality? Don’t get me wrong, it’s a pretty good reality. But sometimes you have to look at the facts and accept them for what they are.

Here are some wake up calls I’ve been hearing lately:

I’m the mother of one. There will not be other children. It’s time to give up the hopes of that happy accident, “change of life” baby. Yeah, I just admitted that. Time to uncross my fingers and use my birthday wishes for something else. It’s just not in the cards. But that means I get to be the best mom in the world to the girl who loves me the most.

I am a training manager at a bank. A bank, people. I’m not an actress, or a comedian or anyone remotely famous. I’m not even in an industry that considers fashion sense a transferable skill. I’m not going to go back to school to become anything else. That means I have a steady job with steady pay and security. And I’m damn good at what I do.

I am decidedly pear-shaped. I don’t have the body of my 25 year-old me. Heck, I don’t even have the body of me at 30! I will never fit into my skinny jeans again. But that’s ok, because they would be wicked out of style now anyway. And I love my curves. Seriously. They make me feel like 100% woman. No stick figure here.

I will never be rich in the “I have enough money to sleep well at night” sense. I have more unpaid bills than ever before. But not having enough helps you figure out what you need. Big house, big mortgage? Ok, time to downsize. You also get the fun task of being creative in a “robbing Peter to pay Paul” sense.

My house will never be clean. The dishes in the sink are never going to do themselves and that new vacuum only works wonders if you plug it in and run it over the carpets. A storage solution for the toys, dolls, and games that I try to “hide” in our living room doesn’t exist. At least I know where things are when we’re looking for them and ready to play. I can be grateful for all that we have, even as I step on another Lego. Glennon said it best.

My reality Photo: K Stevenson Do not use w/o permission

My reality
Photo: K Stevenson Do not use w/o permission

I am lucky to have only these small details to accept.  Looking at what my reality is has helped me to let go of any regrets I had about choices I’ve made in the past.  I feel like I have cleaned out my hard drive and made room for more of the good stuff.  And it feels good.

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