I want soooo much to be laid back. I strive to not give a damn. I long for a “live and let live” attitude. In my mind I was born in the wrong time period. In my mind I am a child of the ‘60s living on the corner of Haight-Ashbury in San Francisco with my struggling musician boyfriend. And we do “sit ins” and protest stuff and sing Kumbaya and wear Jesus sandals and flash peace signs. We live off of the Earth and play late night gigs at local Bay Area clubs…..In my mind.

Reality is I am pretty much the opposite of laid back. I used to be wound up so tight they had a saying about coal, and my ass and diamonds. I can’t be late anywhere, I like things checked off of a list, I worry about everything, Im a bit OCD and the thought of living in a dirty apartment in the city and rarely showering makes me borderline psychotic.

At 41 Im learning who I really, really am and even harder…accepting it. It’s such a weird, transitional, scary, joyful, freeing time in my life. At 25 I would never in a million years have posted a picture of myself in my workout clothes for the public to see. Oh Nooooo…I wait until Im 41, post 2 babies, wrinkles, age spotted, saggy, pale and all kinds of NOT young. Because you know- THAT makes sense. I’ve posted before about the freeing feeling that comes with getting older. And I guess it is a little bit of “I don’t give a damn”. Geez Im 41…Im pretty proud of that and dare I say…proud of how I look.

Im pretty sure in my twenties I did everything in my power NOT to be my parents. I also kept thinking “ok once I get past 30, or once I get these kids grown, or once I move to such and such, or once I get through this year….” I was always wishing my time away and waiting to be better. Better at what Im not so sure. I am completely guilty of wishing away my twenties and most of my thirties. It seems like I was just surviving- trying to make it to the next day, or next year, or next stage of my life. Too bad it took so long to realize that tomorrow, next year, next whatever is NOT promised. I won’t make that mistake again.

Today I took a hike on Spruce Mountain. I stopped. Often. I stood and stared at the mountains and trees and animals and sky. I took pictures. I slowed down. I. Slowed. Down. Several years ago I would have rushed that hike to get home and eat and clean and start laundry and get my chores done. Not today. And guess what? The laundry is still here, the house is not clean and it will all get done sometime. I have quit rushing. I may never live on Haight-Ashbury and sing Kumbaya or live in squaller in a hippie commune but this Type A, OCD, tightly-wound girl is finding her own “live and let live”. I hope you find yours too!!


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