My birthday happened a few days ago. Sons and daughter and their SOs were here, enjoyed that.
But all day long, today, the thoughts have pushed and pulled at me ... random thoughts about aging, thoughts that range from 'why didn't I write and publish 30 years ago' to 'I want my 40s & 50s back.' I want my trim body back. I know, I know. Stay in the now. Stay in the present. Stay positive. Be happy where you are and with what you have. Be grateful. Be thankful. I know. I read it and I hear it all the time.
But, let me tell you something. When you're facing maybe, just maybe, only 15 more years of productivity at your best, I'm sorry, the positive attitude seems to diminish a bit. That's what is happening today. It's diminishing.
Then I think of Catherine Cookson who was writing yet another novel at 91 when she had an instant fatal heart attack. The moment before her death she was dictating a manuscript into a recorder. What a woman! Some of you know how fond I have been of her. Even wrote a stageplay about her. Yes, she's my idol. What is this morbid pit I'm in today? Having anxiety about death and wondering if I have enough time left to do all I want to do.
Okay! So, I've got maybe 22 more years left. Hummm. I can do a lot in 22 years. I can write at least 22 more novels. One book a year is what I write. I could write more if that's all I do, but with the publishing companies, my time is shared with other writers' works. I can accomplish a lot in 22 years. Health is all important, though. Must work on that.
Alright. I'm feeling better. I just needed to spell this out, to vent to myself. I'm okay.
Tomorrow's Monday and I've a list of things to do ... so I'll get my positive back and surge forward. I'll pull out my positive readings and "The Secret" and "The Supermind", etc. Yep. I'm okay.
So I think I'll have a glass of wine and watch a good movie before going to bed. I need to relax.