I turned thirty-eight this year. Thirty-eight. 38.
I turned thirty-eight this year and I’m nowhere near where I thought I’d be.
Years ago, I thought that by the time I was thirty-eight, I’d have a family that included two children, two dogs, a cat, and a husband. I’d have a stable job that I enjoyed doing and everything I worked so hard for would be paying off.
Today, at 38, I have one fabulous toddler, one dog who is my main girl, no cat, and a loving and supportive husband.
What is missing from my life is not the second child, the second dog, or the cat. It’s the job. It’s the career. It’s the stable work I enjoy doing day in and day out. I work part time assisting kids and while it’s not consistent work and not exactly what I want to be doing, it can be rewarding. The problem is, it’s not where my heart is.