It was my birthday on Friday; I turned 36. Getting older never bothered me until this year, this number.
If I were having more kids, I wanted it to happen by 35. It hasn’t. I thought I’d be settled in a home and a career by now. But we’re moving twice in the next twelve months and I don’t have a job, let alone a whole career. At the very least, I should know what I want to be when I grow up, but I don’t. I don’t even have a daily routine. The only consistent thing in my life is the inconsistency.
It’s easy to feel like I’m falling short of whatever 36 was supposed to be. But then I remember, 36 was not a deadline for any of this. There’s still plenty of time to do everything I want to do. I am not 36, concrete and finite. I’m in constant evolution, just like every other human. This year, I’m on Version 3.6 of myself.
Version 3.6 has impressive upgrades from Version 3.5. Not to say v3.6 is the best I can do; I’ve got some serious plans in mind for v3.7. And beyond.
Human beings, by nature, want measurable, definable results. Quantitative over qualitative. With that mindset, it’s easy to get discouraged partway through, when goals still seem so far away. It’s only when you look back at the beginning that you see how far you’ve actually come.
Oh hey there, struggling stepparent!
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