Well, only a few days left until the dreaded 30. Ick. I've been pretty busy this week with various busy nothings at home, in the yard, for work, etc. And all the while, in the back of my mind is the thought that the last days are slipping by, little lost birds scampering off into days past. So what is it I fear so much? I suppose many of the things I fear are common for many people, and I recognize that many are shallow and selfish, but they keep popping into my mind anyway.
*Am I old? Is my youth at an end? Am I at the halfway mark of my life? I worry that I am at times, another incentive to get my weight and corresponding high blood pressure under control.
*Have I made good use of my twenties? Did I enjoy the time that I was granted? This is sort of a silly thing to worry about when one can't go back and re-cage those lost days. I start to second guess myself. I think I have been happy, but have I???
*Am I happy with where I am in life? I have many blessings. I love my husband and he's loving and kind in return; I love my family; I marvel everyday that we are blessed with a house and yard, I feel lucky to be employed full time. There are things I want of course: to be lovely (okay, I warned you, it's shallow) and good, a baby (too expensive right now), more cats, a dinner date with Orlando Bloom (that's probably not going to happen!), music, books, a new career path perhaps? But overall, I feel satisfied with my life. But what if, what if, what if. I guess at some point you just have to live with the what ifs.
But in a few days, I'll be thirty. And yup, I'm still fat. I want so much to win through this. But what if ten years worth of little birds fly by and I'm waking through the dream to find that I'm turning forty, and yup, I'm still fat. I don't know whether to hope, or not to hope, that I have bigger problems to think about then. Until then, I'm dragging onto these last few days, opening the cages slowly before my birds can fly out.