Hi. I’m almost 40, and I don’t know what I want to do with my life.

Well, the rest of my life. *Shudder*. That makes it even worse.

Those adorable blogs with witty hipsterish people making money waxing on and on about the mundaneness of their pitiful lives? I did that. A fucking dozen years ago. I should have had better timing.

Those people in the well-fitted suits with the gleaming hair and remarks that slide easily off their tongues, that cut like fresh razor blades? It’s too late to do that. You can’t start doing that at 40.

Those academic professors, their noses in books and their eccentricities on display for all to admire, and mock too, but mostly admire? I didn’t do that. I kind of wish I did, but I didn’t. And like the suits, it’s too late for that, too.

That’s what sucks about not having figured your shit out when you’re 40…it’s too late to start so many things. Even the whole “another year will go by whether you do this or noo-ooot” thing aside. There’s just not an extra decade to spend paying your dues in there any more. There’s. Just. Not.

Those authors in their awesome clothes, smart and funny and sweet and self-effacing? I want to be one of them, I think. But I’m not. Yet. And I’m having trouble figuring out how to get there. And it doesn’t actually pay, probably. Maybe later if I’m lucky. But that’s not exactly helping now, is it?


I get it. It’s all right there, all dripping in obviousness like obviousness is mayonnaise and you didn’t actually want mayonnaise on whatever you ordered. I have to keep plugging away at that last one, or find something else, or maybe both of those things together.

But mostly I have to keep plugging away. Not get lost in my other random “projects”–like keeping myself sane or planning family vacations or selecting the best summer camps or finding a private school we can afford to send our son to.

I guess I can’t really stop doing those things, though. So now I have to do them both. Them all. Everything.

I wish that felt less overwhelming than it does. But…right now it doesn’t. (But if I have VSG surgery, maybe I will magically no longer be overwhelmed with shit? Right? HAHAHAHAHA)


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