Do you ever get to the age where you think you should just be happy with the way things are?

I don’t think so.

Was is that age anyway?

When you’re young, you have or think you have time. The trouble is, life is long enough to make you feel confident that you have plenty of it, but the days fly by fast. The road is long, but the days are short.

When you get older, like me, you look back and evaluate what you’ve done. Should you be complacent and happy with the good things or should you shoot for more? In my case, I’m going for more.

It’s not that I’m not unhappy until I realize that I’ve made choices that now force me to work instead of retiring.

On those mornings when I’m looking out on a beautiful sunny day and I know I have to take it all in, in 10 minutes or less before hitting the road for another work week, I find it difficult to feel satisfied, much less happy.

And I realize the grass really is greener. And then I want more. More savings, more income, more time for family, who are also getting old, and more time to myself.

This is part of the reason I’ve rekindled my habit of writing every day.

I say part because I love it. It’s not just for money. I want to do what I love for the money, and I want to make enough to cut back on my work hours. Zero time or part-time.

I’ll take either, and preferably one as a stepping stone to the other.

Writing has given my life some meaning again and a platform to vent and express myself. It has brought me back to my roots, the one thing I was always good at.

What the hell happened you ask?

I quit, doing it creatively that is, for two reasons: 1/ my mother liked it (can you say teenager?) and 2/ it came too easily and I didn’t see the potential in myself.

Well, I see the potential now.

And I see so many amazing writers who are supporting themselves with their writing and living their dream. Some are writers/entrepreneurs like Tom Kuegler and some are authors and writers: Congratulations Crystal Jackson, and Shannon Ashley.

You all rock! None of that office crap for you. Crystal and Shannon are single mothers who put it all out there and did it! Don’t argue with me girls, I’m 61 and you two are in your 30’s. As far as I’m concerned, you’re young.

I, too, was a single mom, but at that time there weren’t the on-line platforms that there are today. And even if there had been, I don’t know how much advantage I would’ve taken of it.

It took me a long time to come full circle. But here I am now, typing my heart out in the hopes of connecting to others and making a few bucks.

I’ve got a ways to go, but I can once more say that I am a writer. I’m in a community where people rip open their hearts and let it all spill out. It’s real, vulnerable, and unapologetic.

It is a way to create a community, a richer life, and a more honest world, all the while giving you the opportunity to generate a little income. What more could you ask for?

It gives me a reason to keep going. And speaking of reasons, there is proof that having something to look forward to has positive results.

While in a Nazi concentration camp during World War II, Viktor Frankl, a neurologist and psychiatrist, discovered the psychotherapeutic method known as logotherapy.

In his book, Man’s Search for Meaning, he writes that prisoners who could identify something positive in their lives or had something to look forward to survived and had better outcomes. Those who did not survive and were on the whole in worse physical condition.

In other words, their lives lost meaning.

What gives your life meaning? Is it a long lost talent or dream? Or would you like to try something new? By trying, I mean doing because when you “do,” you succeed.

You stay occupied, positive, avoid depression, and get your brain moving. You give your life meaning, a goal. Even if that goal or dream is a relatively small one, it’s yours and it’s worth pursuing.

There’s no reason to become complacent or worse depressed.

Dream big or dream small.

That thing between our ears is a muscle and all our muscles need flexing.

My dream is to find the time to write and write and write until it is something I can rely on. A way to not only connect, but to earn as I do it. To plan days for the rest of my life that don’t pander to the whims of a boss or office politics.

My dream is to be able to sit and look out the window and write for hours until I start to lose the feeling in my bum, with a cat on my leg, the sun shimmering on the ocean, or rain tapping on the window.

My dream is doable, reachable, and it’s for me.

And I’m as young as I feel.