F*cked Up 59

I was listening to a podcast the other day, and the speaker shared a strategy for letting God/spirit/energy (pick your favorite cosmic force) guide you into the new year. Her technique? Write down 10 goals on December 20th, crumble them up, and put them aside. Each day afterward, you pull one out and burn it. By December 31st, you’re left with one goal—your “resolution” for the upcoming year.

Well, I thought, “I can’t do that because I’d just write the same thing on every slip of paper.” Honestly, I only want two things for the upcoming year: to start my Life Coaching practice again (and actually turn it into my career), and, hand in hand with that… to QUIT working as a retail manager!

Reflecting on this past year feels like sorting through a box of mismatched socks—a little chaotic but oddly sentimental. This year was significant because I rounded out my 59th lap around the sun. I kicked off my 50s by running and finishing a marathon. Yep, that was back when I had the energy to exercise every morning. Somewhere in the middle of the decade, the school I taught at collapsed (figuratively, not literally, though some days it felt close). I got certified as a yoga instructor and then retired from teaching altogether. Enter Covid, because why not stir things up even more, right? I became a certified Life Coach and, for reasons I’m still trying to process, took a job at a big local retailer. Then, just days after my 60th birthday, my dad passed away, marking another significant shift in this winding road of life.

This year, specifically, felt like an exercise in survival. My once-daily dog walks shrank to weekends and days off, and Craig and I barely made a dent in our to-watch list. We did manage to binge-watch Suits, though, which, considering our track record this year, felt like an achievement. (And, really, when else in my life has my TV viewing ever even ranked as high as an honorable mention?)

Then there’s my day job. It has been… well, exhausting. My grand entrepreneurial dreams of being a successful coach were shoved to the side as I threw myself into managing… cats (or at least that’s what it feels like much of the time). Retail, with its endless name tags and relentless holiday shifts, has drained my energy and dulled my spirit.

But despite all the chaos, this year also crystallized one undeniable truth: I’m not where I want to be—and I can’t stay here any longer. Life coaching isn’t just a career aspiration for me; it’s a calling. I know the power of helping women over 50 navigate their relationships, avoid the trap of “gray divorce,” and reconnect with their purpose. It’s what I’m meant to do. Coaching lights me up in a way retail never could. It’s where my passion and skills collide, and I’m ready to step fully into that purpose.

So, here’s to a new year where retail is firmly in my rear-view mirror, and Life Coaching takes center stage. No more name tags, no more holiday shifts, and no more managing chaos that doesn’t belong to me. This is the year I choose me. I choose my calling, my dreams, and the life I’ve been working toward for so long.

F*ck 59. Here’s to 60—a year of clarity, courage, and creating the life I’ve always envisioned. Let’s do this.

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