If you asked 15 year old me what I’d be doing 30 years later, you get a response along the lines of writing for Rolling Stone, having best seller books, doing poetry readings at all the cool places and hanging with rock stars. I would live in the West Village and lead such a glamorous life.
45 year old me lives in a Midwestern suburb. I have bills to pay and a house to clean. I work full time and then shuttle my kiddo to activities and friends’ houses (at 13, they are no longer called play dates). My weekend nights consist of watching ghost adventures & ancient aliens on Netflix. Going to the gym is my happy hour.
Sometimes it’s hard to deal with the fact that a dream may have gone dormant. For me, it led to a lot of self esteem issues because I wasn’t leading the life I wanted to-so I’m a loser, baby. I stopped writing for a long time. I’d do little mommy blog posts here and there and an occasional freelance piece, but not really writing. I wasn’t disciplined in anything I was doing in my life, honestly.
Even though who I thought I’d be at 45 didn’t come to pass, I have led the most excellent life so far. I’ve had amazing adventures, with more still to come. I let others dim my lights, because they couldn’t handle me shining so brightly. It was easier to keep those lights on low with another bag of chips & a Coke, than to turn it up. Sitting on the couch surfing Facebook became more important than working out or writing or experiencing life first hand.