This is my 40

Thanks to inspiration from Christina Rosalie, and my (at the time) impending 40th birthday, a few weeks ago I decided to put together a "40 Before 41" list of 40 things I want to accomplish before my 41st birthday.

I turned 40 yesterday, so it's time to commit to it.

I've always been a list-maker, and I've tended to keep sporadic lists of things I want to do, which often ended up misplaced in a journal or on a sticky note somewhere. I know the formality here will help me — I'll cross items off as I do them, and you all can follow along (or play along, if you fit in somewhere).

Oh, and one more thing: there's no rhyme or reason to the order. I just added as they popped into my head.

• 40 Before 41 • 

• Learn to bake French macarons
• See my byline in a national magazine
• Have at least one item of clothing tailored to fit
• Build a terrarium
• Blog at least twice a week
• Develop a new website for my blog
• Climb Pikes Peak • Visit Ojo Caliente
• Read at least 52 books
• Send a snail mail letter/card/postcard/gift once a month
• Plant and grow something edible outside
• Yoga and meditation, daily
• Take French language lessons
• Make new connections with at least three bloggers I respect
• Plan my next trip to France
• Attend the Santa Fe Opera
• Take classes on how to use all the buttons on my DSLR
• Figure out my signature style
• Skinny dip
• Learn to make ginger beer
• Find the perfect red lipstick (and wear it)
• Journal at least weekly
• Add a piece of original art to my collection
• Take a trip with a girlfriend
• Invest in a week's worth of matching bras and panties (foundations matter!)
• Intentionally play music in the house every day
• Visit a hot springs in Colorado
• Give generously what I want to receive
• Facilitate and participate in at least one improv writing session a month
• Stay up once all night until sunrise
• Perform at a poetry slam/open mic
• Participate in a stage show (play, musical, etc.) as cast or crew
• Get will and living will in order
• Have a tarot reading done
• Find more opportunities to dance
• Play paintball
• Continue to reduce my wardrobe, a la Project 333
• Get make-up tips from a pro
• Take performance driving lessons
• Show up (my 2014 "one-word" soul mantra)

Beating myself up

[dropcap custom_class="normal"] T [/dropcap]his morning at my usual coffee shop a guy asked if he could share my table. It was a wide four-top, and while I tend to spread out, I certainly didn’t need all the space, so I said sure. I kept working on my laptop. Until the table began to shake lightly.

I glanced up. My tablemate had his cup of joe in one hand, his cell phone in the other. He was listening to music through some (really big) headphones – and tapping to the beats on the table.

I was annoyed.

I mumbled in my head.

I felt myself getting worked up.

I complained on Facebook about it. (I do love social media. Instant support!)

After about fifteen minutes, I packed up and left. (He was still there, apparently oblivious.)

And now, I’m kinda pissed at myself. It had been my table. My space he entered. (As much as a table at a coffee shop can be, at least.) And rather than say something to him, I retreated. What is it in some of us that keeps us from speaking up? That keeps us from standing our ground? Really, I should have been able to look up, catch his eye, and ask him (politely, of course) to (please) stop tapping the table. How hard would that have been?

But I couldn’t. I. Just. Couldn’t. I didn’t want to be seen as rude. Or bitchy. Or imposing on his activities. It was easier (at the time) to be all cranky about it, and ultimately, change not only my mood, but my plans.

I don’t want to be that person.

I want to be the person who has enough respect for herself that she can choose to be as important as those around her, and who can ask for what she needs in any situation.

I want to be the person who others respect, and who are willing to honor my needs, and consider my wants.

I want to be the person who can look conflict in the eye, no matter how big or how small, and come nose to nose with it.

I want to show up in my life. Every day. Every hour. Every minute. Every single moment.

Seems I have some work to do.

Bravery

It's been a long week. Yes, I realize it's only Wednesday. Still, it's been a long week.

That said, on Monday, I dropped by one of my favorite stores (EllyBlue) and found this chalkboard sign out front.

She who is brave is free.

When I think about the word "brave" — which interestingly, I almost picked as my Soul Mantra for 2014 — I conjure images of a Joan of Arc-type, sitting tall on a majestic horse, sword drawn, ready for whatever fight she may need to face. Of course, she also doing said action while wearing a gorgeous white flowing dress, with her hair perfectly coifed, and her lipstick a most excellent shade of rose.

(I have an active imagination sometimes.)

But being "brave" is so very rarely quite so exciting, or managed in such a quote-unquote perfect way. It more often takes the form of choosing to get out of bed in the morning in a daily fight against depression. Or in finally scheduling that doctor's appointment to figure out why a literal pain in your neck won't go away.

Or, in trying to figure out how to word a blog post just so — by releasing lifelong perfectionist habits, or I'm-not-good-enough thoughts, or anxiety about what people [shudder] will think.

All tendencies that can be self-destructive and binding.

Or in other words, not freeing.

She who is brave is free.

She who is brave is free. And it's baby steps of bravery, baby steps of "showing up" for your life each and every day, that get you to that free place. (My Soul Mantra this year actually is "show up." More on that in a future blog post.)

It's exhausting, but important, work.

And is why it's been a long week for me, just three days in. I've been tackling projects, testing my limits. Being brave. And I know my work is nowhere near done.

Which is also why I might just crawl under the bedcovers for awhile. Breathe in some good alone-time freedom. And start fresh tomorrow.