My birthday is just around the corner. I'll be making my 47th spin around the sun, and it's weird to think about. I've outlived my birth mother by 3 years, that's also been the same amount of time that I've locked in and started making big moves. 2 co - author books, 2 businesses, 1 film, multiple awards, 2 business expansions, a whole rebrand, and basically a partridge in a pear tree.
If my birth mother was here, would she be proud?
What was she doing on her 44th birthday? Did she wonder what I was doing? Or my bonus siblings?
Where will I be in another 3 years? Will I smash all the goals I have in mind? Is the dream I'm dreaming attainable? Will I ever be that person that can say I'm insanely proud of myself, because I can't say that yet. There's too much to do.
Getting older is a gift I can't help but be grateful for. I'm thankful for the people who have been with me through thick and thin, helped me along the way, thrown me life lines, and cheered from the sidelines. I'm even thankful to those that broke my heart, challenged my thinking, or walked away. Every one of them taught me something. I needed that.
I don't know what 47 is supposed to look like. When I was younger I envisioned sweater vests and knitting needles. Here I am now thinking about sky diving, so I'm not sure which one is off the mark. Maybe they're both right.
47....I'm ready for you but I'm too young for sweater vests.