Welcome to Life Begins in the Middle! I’m migrating my other blog, Finding My Inner Athlete, over here, so all posts prior to today are from that and previous blogs. Never fear! I’m still looking for that inner athlete, but I’m expanding my areas of improvement to include lots of other things.
Why Life Begins in the Middle? Several years ago, my Dad made an off-handed comment about my being “middle-aged.” I was incensed! I was outraged! How could he possibly think I was “middle-aged?” So I asked him, “Why on earth would you call me middle-aged?” His reply was dry and very matter-of-fact, “Well, honey, how long do you think you will live?”
While he was probably right, I left the conversation still in denial. I’m not middle-aged. I’m barely aged at all. However, time has moved along and lots of things have happened. I now realize that he is right—or rather he was right and I’m much further advanced in my middle-agedness than I want to admit.
So, what does one do when they finally kick denial out and accept the fact that they are middle-aged? I don’t know about them, but I did an inventory of my life and I have to say, I’m not particularly happy with the outcome:
How I thought it would be:
How it is:
|Married, Mother of at least three, Grandmother amazing||Single, never married, no kids, no grandparent opportunities, haven’t even had a date in a bazillion years (ok, that’s an exaggeration, but decades would be pretty close to on-point)|
|Debt free, kickin’ retirement account and the ability to retire when I hit my 30-year anniversary at work||Up to my eyeballs in debt, not quite where I need to be on the retirement savings scale, looking at another 15-years of working|
|Fit, athletic, healthy—running marathons, doing triathlons, hiking like a mountain goat—you get the picture||Fat, sick, and so tired I could just cry 24/7.|
|Totally skilled in some awesome hobbies, like photography, cooking, wood working, etc.||Half-assed skilled in all of these, but master of none|
Now that the inventory is done, I have a couple of choices: stick my head back in the sand, or turn things around. I’m choosing to turn things around. It’s never too late to be who you want to be. I believe that!