Going on 33

Standard

I’m a 32 year-old writer, less than six months away from 33.

Over the weekend, my mom called me 35.

And I gulped.

Staring down the barrel of 40, the list of what I haven’t done is miles longer than what I have.

I haven’t written a book.

I haven’t been published in The Vogue, Femina, who’s who journal.

I’ve never penned an interesting story.

Nor appeared in print.

I haven’t founded a company, built a product, or been a Manager.

I’m not a “top-rated speaker.” Nobody’s paying me 100k, 10k, or even 1k to show up and open my mouth.

I’ve never gone viral.

All I am is all I am. And what I am is …

Wife to one husband.

Cheerleader to some amazing girls.

Yoga lover.

I have a job I love.

I work with unbelievably talented people who are wicked smart.

And I’m f****** good at what I do.

More importantly, I’m better at what I do today than I was a year and a half ago, a year ago, six months ago.

I’m sober.

My friends answer my calls and tell me the truth.

I’m a 32-year-old writer. Less than six months from 33.

So, yeah, life is pretty good, mom. Still … no need to rush things.

#Letsgetthisrolling #lifeasitgets

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