I turn 36 years old tomorrow. That means I’m solidly on my way to 40. Wow, 40. I’m trying to make peace with the adages, “You’re only as old as you feel” and “Age is just a number.” I sure don’t feel like how I imagined 36 would feel. I often wonder whether I look 36, despite having been told recently that I look 32 and many times in the past that I look younger than my “real” age.
I find myself getting sucked into the number. That needs to stop.
Instead of overthinking the number itself, I’m choosing to spend part of my birthday tomorrow writing a list of goals for 36. Check back for an update. I can say confidently that one goal will be to blog more frequently (I miss it). Another goal will be to take more walks, maybe jog a bit more. (That one sort of is age related. I’m paranoid about heart disease and obesity and other illnesses that often come with aging.)
I’ll save the rest of the goals for later. You know, for that whole suspense thing I rarely try my hand at.
Really just wanted to write something–anything–on my last day of 35. I tried to (and I think I did) fill this day up with all the things I love best: reading, writing, bubble-bathing, shopping, walking/jogging, enjoying wine, talking with friends, and watching tv. Oh, and NOT working. But that was because I slept maybe 3-4 hours total last night.
Insomnia shoves off after age 35, right? RIGHT??
That would be the best birthday gift I could ever ask for. Sigh.