It’s January 1, 2020. Every time (EVERY. TIME.) I say ‘2020’ I do it in my best Barbara Walters voice. Which means I’m old enough to remember hearing Babs introduce the show and, unbeknownst to me, witnessing her paving the way for women. Which means I’m old enough to have a community of grey hairs taking up permanent residence on the forehead-sides of my mane. Just like my mom’s. And this year, it means I’m turning 40. *insert deer-in-the-headlights emoji*
The natural thing to do at the start of a new year/new decade is to reflect on what transpired over the past year or, in today’s case, 10. I about puked from the dizziness of the ups-downs and spin arounds when recalling all of it. To spare you the spins, here’s a linear list starting on May 5, 2010 and culminating on January 1, 2020. (Yep, Babs did it again.)
- Turned 30
- Got married – bought a house – got pregnant – miscarried – got pregnant again – miscarried again
- Got divorced at age 32
- TURMOIL – lost ‘friends’, tested my faith and sense of belonging
- Clawed my way out of ridiculous debt
- Fell in love – the real kind. With a man 16+ years my senior who is a father to four sons.
- Gained 50 pounds. Lost 50 pounds. Gained 50 pounds again. Hanging on tight.
- Realized my inner self was obliterated and lost, then figured out I have choices. Life is whatever I choose to make it.
- Discovered my purpose at age 37. Started the path to becoming a coach and started my business.
- Asked my love to marry me in August 2019. (Because tradition can take a flying leap.) BTW – he said yes!
- Finished 2019 with peace and strength like I’ve never experienced.
As I stare down the barrel of 2020, for the first time I decided to change which end of the barrel I’m on. Instead of watching and waiting for the bullet to find its way to my self-worth, I figured out it’s much better (for a plethora of obvious reasons) to be staring through the scope, in control of the trigger. The target changed because I decided to change it. Instead of letting the bullet annihilate my self-worth, I am zeroing-in and firing straight at fear. Then I’ll reload and keep firing at the other BS in my way (look-out overwhelm, doubt, expectations.) Of course I’ll have plenty of moments where I question my capability, that’s life. But I’ve been practicing over the last few years. I can and will keep going. And I’m a damn good shot.
I could let the prospect of turning 40 make me feel robbed of my youth, feeling crappy about getting ‘old’ and afraid of, well, everything that comes on the ‘downhill’ of life. Honestly, though, I’m pumped about it! Lame as it may sound, it’s a damned gift to be here and youth is overrated. My 30s were a shit-show that I wouldn’t change for anything. There was A LOT of good – A LOT – but I’m happily waving from the shore as that decade sets sail into the sunset. Bye, Felicia. Twenty-twenty is here. I’m going to make Barbara proud.