I left the 60-hour workweeks and somehow got busier in retirement — with nothing to show for it. My intentional move is to give myself actual room to figure this chapter out, beginning with one thing: enjoy Christmas without optimization.
The friend who convinced me to join my sorority? We haven’t talked in over a year. Apparently even ‘forever friends’ can hit their Best Used By date.
Am I expecting too much from others? When AI started apologizing for disappointing me, three mirrors showed the same pattern: I've been assigning standards without consent.
Five years undefeated in fantasy football. Thirty years outsmarting men who called it a "lucky streak." Football was my corporate currency. Then I benched the old me and drafted the rookie — today's me.
Gratitude felt different this year — quieter, sharper, and overdue. Maybe that’s what happens when life finally slows down enough for you to notice the people, the ordinary moments, and the clarity when you finally pay attention.
My reflection staged a coup. I’m negotiating the takeover on my terms — one syringe, serum, and unapologetic choice at a time.
Spent decades perfecting the art of precision — so naturally, I did the same for this blog. Until AI pointed out the absurdity of trying to optimize the personal.
After 28 years at the same company, I got restructured. What shocked me most wasn’t panic — it was relief. Now I’m figuring out who I am, one unused InstaPot and dead plant at a time.