I am finally talking to my 40-year-old self and it is long overdue.
No, I am not speaking aloud. And no, I will not answer myself when I ask some tough questions. So no, I am not losing it. I just need to have a chat with my 40-year-old self.
As I take the time to dust myself off (yes, it has been a long time) I am reminded of how far I have come, and how much more I have to do. The road has been hard, filled with a lot of disappointments and false promises. Some that were damaging enough to somehow stifle the necessary growth I needed to be where I am today.
My 40-year-old self is ornery and reluctant. Thick-skinned in all actuality. Though I am sensitive to many things. For years the path of least resistance was the detailed route that I took. Each time leaving me with head shaking results. 40-year-old self, if it comes easy, it is not worth having. Being ornery and reluctant can save you from heartache, plus the disappointments do not linger so long, but you lose out on several good things being this way. I am not sure what this has cost me, but I bet that there was at least one great thing that came and went without me noticing it.
Smiles are rare due to the lessons that I have been taught. Harsh lessons that would break the spirits of a lesser person. The scars that my 40-year-old self has accumulated are now wounds that reflect my journey.
My 40-year-old self is hilarious at times. Most people may never know this. My immediate family sees it though. With all of the (insert your profanity here) that I have put them through, they deserve it. Too bad that my youngest offspring cannot experience it all, although editing myself has become a needed challenge.
My 40-year-old self gets bored easily now. The scary part about that is the only thing that I can do about that (exactly what can be done about that sir) is learn. To learn is to grow. This 40-year-old version of me is a grown (insert the profanity yourself) man. My renaissance has begun not too long ago. There is no middle-life crisis thus far (is it coming my 40-year-old self) as I do not want a motorcycle, nor do I wish for my gray hair to go away and that red corvette, well I am too big for that.
My 40-year-old self, much like the younger me does have those days of despair. We all do. Anyone care for a chat over some Starbucks (insert crickets here)? That is all that I care to seek. Wait! I wish to… Never mind, it is not that important.
I have become very thoughtful at 40, although I am beginning to care a lot less these days. Me, not care? I cannot answer myself remember. You are welcome for smirking.
That is all that I can tell my 40-year-old self for now. Although I am not done, I have run out of things to say, or in this case type. I will say that this 40-year-old guy will speak again. This conversation is not over. Why should it be? Remember, I cannot answer that.