Failing at Forty
It honestly never occurred to me that I would still be failing at 40 years old. Surely, something inside of me would change. The genes that made you less messy and more responsible would flip on. I would read a self-help book so profound that I would have an instant internal awaking and find the will power and fortitude to stay the course and achieve my dreams. Also, I would find what that dream was, and my interest in it would remain fixed and passionate until I reached some sort of expertise authority on whatever that pursuit was. But here I am. 40. Husbandless. Childless. Savingsless. Dreamless. And to top it all off, just overweight enough to be miserable in my skin. With this blog, I'd like to explore what brought me here. I mean, obviously it was me, but what are the aspects of my personality and decision-making that brought me to be an expert only in the ways of self-sabotage. How did I miss my makeover movie-montage? This won't be a bummer. I mean, honestly, in a wou...