I thought that turning 40 was going to be the big turning point. It was, in a "numbers are meaningful" kind of way. But actually, turning *41* was where the change came in.
Closing in on 42, I can look back on a year in which I discovered that I'd been engaging in anxious thinking and cortisol-assisted intensity for many years; started discovering ways to wind back these bad habits; got back into running again, in earnest; and lost a few pounds.
I also moved into year three (I can't believe I even wrote that) of, with partners, running an independent organization and seeing it toward sustainability.
Way back in the dusty crevices of my mind, I always knew that I wanted to work independently. I think I always knew that I was engaging in "busyness" in a way that I didn't always feel in control of -- and yet, that busyness gave me the illusion of control. The day-to-day work felt meaningful but I had an itch that wasnt being scratched. I didn't know where, but it was there.
Two and half years ago I made a choice that, looking back at it, entailed an enormous amount of risk. But it felt absolutely right and in retrospect, it was absolutely right. I think that if I hadn't made that choice -- to leave a job that paid well but drove me mad and encouraged some of my worst impulses -- I wouldn't today be able to say that I feel more balanced, more actualized, than I have in years. It didn't happen immediately but I do think and hope that my slow awakening continues.