“Fake it ’til you make it”. I used this catchy phrase repeatedly for years, hoping something would stick.
- Act like an artist and you’ll become one
- Surround yourself with people you admire and you’ll become like them
- Pretend others’ thoughtless actions towards you don’t hurt and they won’t
- Smile hard enough and the sadness will go away
Perhaps I didn’t execute the steps properly, because it didn’t work. I kept coming full circle and became increasingly disappointed by the lack of a miraculous metamorphosis.
Fast forward a year. The best thing about getting older for me isn’t wisdom and experience. It’s the ability to let go and stop trying so hard. It’s the unadulterated joy of acceptance that life is what it is. I am who I am.
It took me 50 years to get here, but I finally get it. I no longer care if I’m called an artist. I’m a maker. I make stuff, some stuff better than other stuff. I don’t have loads of friends, but those I have are 100% keepers. I no longer take things personally when it’s not my problem. I no longer tolerate emotional maleficence. And – most importantly – I’m no longer willing to accept chronic sadness. Meds were invented for a reason!
All that said, it’s time to get back to business, and no better place to start than with this blog. I stopped writing a while ago because I felt I had nothing to say. I also worried that blogging is perceived as just another act of social media vanity. But in the spirit of this post, I’m ignoring the critical voices in my head and will resume chronicling the less than exciting life of Me.