And as I hit 46, I think it’s a pretty bloody good time to stop and actually look at what I’ve done.
WOF check — tick.
Breast check — tick.
Tetanus injection — unfortunately, tick. 😂
Hospital visits — somehow NONE. A few close calls, but we’ll call that a win.
FND — successfully pushed that shit to the bottom of the list.
ACC — finally on board. Halle-fucking-lujah. 🙌
I dabbled in the dating world and, well avoid said arena with love. 😂
I did aerial yoga training.
Ticked another thing off my ever-growing “things I want to try” list.
Started my pole journey.
And probably discovered a whole new collection of muscles I didn't know existed.
But more than the checklists, appointments, diagnoses and random adventures…
45 taught me a lot.
It taught me that life doesn't have to look the way I thought it would.
That sometimes surviving the year is an achievement in itself.
That my body might have limitations, but it doesn't get to decide the size of my life.
That trying something new at 45 is still fucking exciting.
That I can laugh at myself, change my mind, walk away from things that don't feel right and still keep moving forward.
I've spent years thinking healing meant becoming the person I used to be.
Now I realise it's about becoming someone I actually like being.
So here's to 46.
Less proving.
Less chasing.
Less entertaining shit that drains me.
More living.
More trying.
More laughing.
More “fuck it, why not?” moments.
And maybe just a little less hospital drama. 😂
45, you were a wild ride.
46 let's see what you've got.