At peace with myself

Some people—including me—work all their lives to “become” what they want to be. At the moment, I think I may have arrived.

I’ve almost never been happier.

That’s a pretty neat thing to be able to say, considering how many things there are in this world in general and particularly right now that are causing so much stress and consternation for societies everywhere.

I must admit, however, that on April 7th of this year I wasn’t so sure. I turned 40. It was the first time in my entire life that I’d ever been depressed or even subdued on a birthday. I’d finally begun feeling older: taking longer for my eyes to focus when I wake up in the morning, groaning a bit more getting out of bed, my hair now having more gray in it than my father.

But that (fortunately) lasted only a couple of days. When I took time to reflect, I really couldn’t complain too much.

I’ve got a wonderful career and the blessings of financial stability that go with it. The day before my birthday, I’d successfully completed a sprint triathlon—the first one in four years—and felt really strong. I have a nice car, a pleasant place to live, lots of interesting friends & hobbies and some attainable goals for my future. Maybe it takes my eyes longer to focus, but I can still read small signs at quite a distance (better than Eusebio can—and he’s younger than me, hee hee!). Due to my race training, I’ve lost 20 pounds of fat and built several inches of muscle in the past year, and frankly have never been in better physical condition (I was always a wimp in High School and never saw the importance of sports and physical conditioning).

So I guess I’m really happy. Sure, I wish I could be completely out of debt, own my own home and some of the other things I’m still missing, but I can’t complain. Put that together with being really and truly in love and I feel invincible.

I’m very, very blessed and hope that I can stay that way.

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