Historically, I would not characterize myself as a writer or as a researcher or as a lot of things.One night in early December, I was having trouble falling asleep as thoughts of my upcoming birthday ran through my head. The close of an incredibly eventful year was coming near, with the beginning of a new year right on its heels. My repeating thought was not about what has or has not happened over the last year. Rather, it was about why I am so focused on what I am not, what I do not have, and what I have not accomplished by this point in my life.
I have many great qualities. I have everything I need. I have accomplished many things.
This internal counseling session went on for a while, as you may have already imagined.
I turn 35 in a few weeks. This is exciting simply because I love celebrating birthdays. I love milestones and reflection and anticipating what the next year will bring. My life is not what I thought it would be when I was a teenager, planning my next 80 years down to the last nonsensical detail. (Why do we do that?) While it is not the cookie-cutter fairytale that I had anticipated, it has turned out to be a more substantial and fulfilling life than I was capable of envisioning at 16.
My oversimplified profile is: single/no kids/never married.
But, who am I, really?
