I’m forty-seven and I don’t know what I’m doing with my life. It used to be cute, saying, “I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up,” as an adult. It used to be reassuring, even. I’d heard other adults say the same thing. We were all in the same boat. If only I were the first one to put “Adulting is hard!” on a t-shirt, I could have made a fortune (and maybe started a t-shirt-making empire and solved much of my problem). It’s true, many people, probably most people, don’t have it all figured out by the time they graduate, or even by 30 or so. Maaaybe even 40. But 47? Almost 50? Let’s face it, unless I am extremely lucky, my life is more than half over. It’s scary to think about. And when I think about how far I still am from knowing what the hell I’m even doing, from even knowing how to adult, it can be downright terrifying. So I’m trying to resist that fear. Instead of getting under the covers and curling into the fetal position, which is very tempting at times, I’m learning new things, hoping to discover my passion, and trying to make my life less dysfunctional and more joyful in ways both big and small. Come along and join me on my journey!Follow me!