I landed in Bangkok on February 18, the day I turned 40. However, this “milestone” didn’t come with a big party or any fanfare. There was no glitzy photoshoot with an overly dramatic dress and shiny number balloons, or even a mention of the occasion from myself on the millennial Holy Grail that is Instagram. Instead, it arrived quietly, accompanied not by celebration, but by introspection, bringing with it numerous thoughts and musings about past lives, where I am currently, what I want to be when I grow up, and what I still have yet to achieve.
I’ve always been acutely aware of the passage of time. Even as a child, I found myself looking back on the days or weeks previous, wondering why they always felt like the faint whispers of a dream not yet realized. What kid, at just six or seven, actually has those thoughts and realizations? Perhaps that early awareness of time’s fleeting nature explains my lifelong sense of urgency. Maybe that’s why I’ve always been so impatient, especially after becoming a single mother at 18, understanding the preciousness of time and therefore feeling like I have to constantly grind and strive to achieve goals, experiences, and a life that always seems to be just out of reach.
Trying to get in shape in the late thirties/early 40s?!? Its definitely not for the weak!
Buddha Belly Pride… When in Bangkok, right?
I’m someone who has always acted as her own worst critic and pushed herself, often to the brink: the brink of shutting down, the brink of madness, even the brink of success, always wanting and working for more. I worked to be better, to do better, and, of course, have better. Despite my relentless pursuit, success has remained just out of reach, always a step beyond my desperate grasp. But since this is a reflection post, I have to recognize the small victories along the way. Though I haven’t yet reached the level of success I’ve spent four decades striving for, there are meaningful wins I can hold on to. Things that, if they’re not outright successes, then at least they aren’t failures.
For example: I’ve never been evicted. I’ve never had a DUI. I never put a bill in my baby’s name or spent the money I saved for him, even when I was late on bills and drowning in debt for months and years on end. I graduated college. Twice. I’ve never filed for bankruptcy, and I’ve never been divorced. Although, if I’m being perfectly honest, I don’t see those last two achievements staying intact until I die (but that’s a story for another day). And while these may not be the grand milestones society equates with success, in their own way, they are victories; proof that I have navigated many of life’s challenges without completely losing myself, or the plot, in the process.
My parents came home from Greece… I left for Bangkok. I’m sure there’s symbolism in there somewhere? LOL.
Hello Lover….
And while I’ve always told myself I’m not interested in proving other people’s negative or ill-informed opinions about me wrong, through my own mistakes and actions, even inactions, I’ve constantly struggled with the feeling that I am not “good enough” in any aspect of my life, nor will I ever be. That feeling lingers, a shadow that follows me even in moments of progress. Further, when I’m in a deep state of self-reflection, coupled with my old friends over-analyzing and over-thinking, I feel like those around me can see every flaw, every vice, and every bad habit I am so desperately trying to change.
In the past, that realization caused me to regress even further into myself. It silenced me, convinced me the real me wasn’t worth sharing. It is the reason I, up until about a week ago, never really put myself on video or spoke on Instagram. It’s the reason I’ve felt like my voice or opinion doesn’t always need to be heard, even in times when it truly matters and could affect positive change in the world around me. It’s why I went through the motions but was always just a few days late in applying to, or trying out for, my so-called childhood dreams: college basketball (I was told, and foolishly believed, being a single mother at 18 meant I had to give up that lifelong passion), ANTM (seeking the external validation every teen girl growing up in the 00s craved when Britney was called “fat” and thigh gaps were considered a personality trait), and the only TV show I’m still willing to put all my insecurities on display for, Survivor. But despite those dismissed dreams, something is shifting.
Please believe at my big age, I will be taking advantage of all the non-invasive beauty and maintenance treatments Bangkok has to offer 🙂
After four decades and four knee surgeries, I’ve had to trade my toxic relationship with basketball for a SLIGHTLY less toxic one with Volleyball.
At some point in the last few months, while I’ve been at my lowest financially and, therefore, my weakest mentally, it hit me: The worst things I believe about myself only exist in my own mind, not in the realities around me. And if that’s true, then I’ve spent the last 40 years as a prisoner of my own insecurity and increasingly disproven theory that I am not good enough.
Owning that, truly owning that part of my bullshit, and acknowledging how it’s stunted me to this point, felt like an impossible task. But in the end, the realization didn’t arrive with some grand epiphany… it simply settled in, smug as hell, like it had been waiting for me to catch up: the only expectations I’ve yet to live up to are my own.
So what does that mean now? Now that the light is on and it’s impossible to ignore the self-induced bullshit I’ve been wading through? It means I finally get to redefine success on my own terms.
Heeding the infinite wisdom and inspiration found all over the streets and alleys of Bangkok.
And part of redefining success on my terms and finally starting this as-honest-as-possible creation journey? Attempting to go filter-free 🙂
As I sit here at nearly midnight, in my cozy little condo, twenty-three stories above the sights, sounds, and vibes that are so uniquely Bangkok, I realize that when it comes to my current definition of success and achievements, I’m honestly okay with the bare minimum. I even welcome it. For the first time in my life, I don’t feel the need to prove anything. Not to myself or anyone else. At this point in my life, and at least for the near future, I only want to do just enough work to survive, and for the first time, take my remaining time, energy, and talents and pour them into my damn self.
Because as I reflect on the first four decades of my life, I’ve realized I spent my twenties wanting and not knowing how, and my thirties fixing and not knowing when. But my forties? Although I’m only a month in, I’ve decided my forties are for finally doing, living, and THRIVING… Or, more tactfully described as, doing whatever the fuck I want.
On a mission… for Mango Sticky Rice 🙂
“Girl Dinner” Bangkok-Style: 7/11 Shrimp Dumplings, Street Cart Mango Sticky Rice, and Espresso Frap with an extra shot from a vending machine… to get me through the late-night conference calls…
Because there’s one simple truth I need to keep in mind: I created a life, no matter how long it took or how hard it was to get here, that now allows me the freedom and LUXURY to work for myself, live where I want, and focus only on the things that truly matter and actually bring me JOY.
And if that means eating mango sticky rice for breakfast and calling it “self-care,” so be it. If that means working just enough to get by so I can finally pour my energy into my own damn happiness, then that’s exactly what I’m going to do. If it means unlearning decades of grinding for the sake of an arbitrary finish line or to keep up with the Joneses, then I’ll do that too. Because I’ve spent 40 years chasing, fixing, proving, and striving… always feeling like I was just a little too late, a little too far behind. But the truth is, I was never behind at all. I was just on my own timeline.
And now, for the first time in my life, I’m finally in sync with it.
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