This is what I keep telling myself. I am in a funk about turning 35 on Friday. I can’t seem to shake this terrible feeling that I’m at a major turning point in my life. Right now, I’m as happy as I could probably be. I have everything I need, though it wouldn’t hurt to have more money. Of course, even when I had more money, it would have been nice to have more than that. I’m not even sure what good it would do. After all, the more you have, the more you spend.

In any case, turning 35 has me worried. I’ve been a worrier all my life, but now, I am a little overwhelmed with it. I’ve been reflecting alot lately on what else I have to offer. I’m past the age where I feel I can safely or sanely have more children. I’ve finished school a couple of times and they simply will not let me borrow more money to do something different. I’ve written two books and am now working on a third. I’ve been on a plane, I’ve traveled a little, I’ve even met Jerry Springer. What else is there?

Well, there used to be a very long list of things I wanted to do, but it has since been replaced by only one goal: living to see my daughter grow up safely and helping her get through life. Outside of that, everything seems trivial. Perhaps this is a temporary funk. I hope so, at least. There are still some things I would like to do, I just need to give myself permission to want them again. Once life gets rolling, it’s hard to stop the train of guilt and obligation from running you down.

I think what I’ll do is this: Stop worrying! Shit, it’s bound to pass. After Friday, I’ll still be the same crazy chic that wrote this post. I’ll just have a new number attached to myself. Who cares, really? I still have my sense of humor. Actually, on Friday, I think I will make up a new list of things I want to do with the next thirty years. Seems like a worthwhile project for someone who’s having a bit of a crisis. I’ll let you know how that turns out.

Until next time…