Sometimes the world is really heavy. Like heavy.

I know you’re probably expecting me to tell you about politics or something, but I’m not going to do that. That stuff can be heavy, but that’s not what I’m talking about.

I’m talking about traffic and deadlines and work, work, work. I’m talking about rushing your kids from school to soccer practice. I’m talking about wishing you could spend more time with your kids while they’re little. I’m talking about rolling over to your spouse and realizing they have a few more crow’s feet than they used to.

When did that happen? Didn’t I see them yesterday?

I’m talking about looking in the mirror and not recognizing yourself. About trying to find the balance between family time, me time, and making enough money to survive. Is there a balance? It feels more like a see-saw — always tipping hard in one direction or another.

I’m talking about the mundane. The feelings of “won’t this ever get better/easier/happier?” And if there’s one thing I know, it’s that the mundane is heavy sometimes. Really heavy.

And unfortunately, I’m no Superman — or Superwoman, as it may be. I’m just me. Carrying heavy things is hard, and soul crushing reality certainly isn’t getting any lighter.

But here’s the thing: Maybe the mundane is heavy because it’s where all the joy is hiding.

The day that felt the heaviest was the day I realized that my oldest had probably already crossed the halfway point for living at home. We were no longer climbing up the hill; we were heading down the other side. And I knew that going downhill usually went a lot faster. It would soon be a snowball, and I wouldn’t be able to slow it down at all.

It’s weird how these moments sneak up on us. They’re a little like a Jack-in-the-box. We know it’s coming, and yet it still somehow surprises us.

But the heaviest part of the realization was that I had spent so much of that time wishing the days away. I can’t wait until the weekend. I can’t wait until vacation. Just a few more weeks until the holidays. Just a few more weeks until summer.

I wished away more time than I enjoyed.

And for what? A new car? I didn’t have one. A nice house? Mine was good enough, and I couldn’t afford any better. Why was I wishing away the days? Why was I constantly looking forward to any day except for the day I was experiencing?

The only thing that I could come up with was because society told me to. They told me that life would get better after I graduated college and got a full-time job. It didn’t. It was just different. They told me it would get better after I got married. And then after I had kids. And then once I got the promotion. And then once my kids were out of the toddler stage.

Society told me to live for the weekend. And then it told me to fill those weekends up with little league and activities and a million other things. It told me that as soon as I reached a certain point, life would finally really begin. And it would be good.

But that’s not what happened. Life didn’t start at any of those moments. In fact, life was happening all along. It happened while I studied with friends for a big exam. It happened while I cried to my mom over a broken heart. It happened when I read Romeo & Juliet to my freshmen class.

It happened when my first child was born — when he cried, when he kept me up at night, when he took his first steps. It happened when I got lost in a book, cozy in my bed. It happened when I was lying in the bathroom floor with my sick toddler.

It happened again and again and again. It was happening now. It was happening all the time.

Life was and is always happening. But for some reason, we’re waiting on it. For some magic day when life starts. When it finally means something, I guess.

But maybe today, I’ll enjoy that hot coffee as it runs down my throat and circles around my stomach. Maybe I’ll wrap my arms around my littlest as he crawls into my bed at night instead of wishing I could stretch out. Maybe I’ll wrap up in a blanket and watch my favorite movie instead of cursing the cold weather and wishing it was over. Maybe I’ll draw just for the heck of it, or learn a new hobby, or play the piano — mistakes and all.

Maybe I’ll stop wishing my moments away. Maybe the good stuff is what’s happening during all of that waiting for the next big thing. Maybe those little things are the big things after all.

Maybe I’ll just carry all that weight for a while and see what happens.

You know what sucks? Getting old. Not like 90 or 100, because for as much as that sucks, it’s also AWESOME to live that long. Like you can’t possibly care what others think once you’ve made a century. Right? Right?!

No, what really sucks is getting old, but not old. Like 40. 40 sucks. And everybody knows that 40 sucks. In fact, we know that it sucks SO MUCH that we made a little chart – the happiness curve – and do you know where 40 lies on the curve? At the bottom. So if you’re 40-ish, you’re likely at the bottom of the happiness curve. This could be good news – we can only go up from here. Or it could be bad news – like, how long do I have to stay at the bottom?

This is not to discourage all of you “about to turn 40” people out there. I’d rather be 40 than the alternative – you know, dead – but it’s hard on this side of the hill. If you haven’t made it here yet, I’m going to tell you the top reasons why it sucks over here. That way, you can prepare yourself.

The Old, the Odd, and the Annoying: Why Getting Old Sucks

• You’re old, but not old old. Some people look at you normally, but young people start to look at you like “Oh, you’re 40.” 
• You think you still look like a 30 year old. Spoiler alert: You don’t. 
• You’re not better off in your career. You thought you would be, I know. But you’re not. In fact, you’re nowhere near where the younger you thought you would be at this age. 
• You say phrases like at this age.
• You have to scroll further to choose your age, or heaven forbid, your birth year.
• You don’t have a lot of money. You never did, but for some reason, you thought you would by this age.
• There’s that phrase again. 
• You have SO much more to share about the world and how it works and what to avoid, but fewer and fewer people really care to listen. 
• Wrinkles, age spots, gray hair.

The Silver Lining

Ok, so it’s not allll bad, and we know that, too. There are a lot of good things about getting older. There’s a silver lining that has nothing to do with your hair.

For example, some people really DO listen, and you get to pass on wisdom to those who haven’t climbed the hill yet. 

And even though you no longer look like a 30 year old, you look pretty damn good.

You might not bounce back from a night out as quickly, but you also have less desire to have a night out that needs recovery. 

You’re smarter, but in a way that you could never explain to someone younger. It’s just experience. 

These are the good experiences of getting older, and there are plenty more. 

But overall, getting old sucks. I’m grateful to do it, but it’s a constant up and down. And it doesn’t really matter how many times I tell you about it, you still won’t be prepared. It comes at you fast, and once you get to the top, it goes even faster on the other side. 

If you’re still on the uphill side, take advantage of it. Say yes more often. Make mistakes. Go on trips. Make friends. Do all the things. 

And if you’ve reached the top, take advantage of it. Say yes more often. Make mistakes. Go on trips. Make friends. Do all the things. 

Yes, the advice is the same no matter which side of the hill you’re currently climbing (or rolling down). 

Why? Because climbing up or rolling down, life is in all of it. And it’s never too late to live your life exactly the way you want. 

When I was young, I had it all.

I had opportunity literally at my feet.

I had good grades and scholarships.

I had youth. I had beauty. I had family.

I had opportunities.

I could have chosen any school, any place to live, any future.

And yet…

I chose him.

I chose to date him.

I chose to be near him.

I chose opportunities that would keep us together.

I chose to turn things down that made him uncomfortable.

I chose to marry him.

I chose to move far away from my family and closer to his.

I chose a family with him.

I chose to forgive.

I chose to stay.

I chose to give up everything while he chased his dreams.

I chose to believe in him. Again and again and again.

And do you know what happened?

It worked.

He flourished.

He met goals he never thought possible.

He proved people wrong.

He gained confidence and accolades and built something to be proud of.

He celebrated. And so did I.

And I kept everything going while he kept chasing.

I spent nights alone.

I managed the home.

I managed the kids.

I kept everything moving like a well-oiled machine.

While he worked and worked and chased his goals.

While he put every extra thought into his dreams.

I defended him. Again and again and again.

It was glorious, watching him succeed.

He gets to have it all.

And then it hit me.

When his dreams were finally coming true, I might get a turn to chase mine.

And the thought of chasing my dreams filled me up in a way I never thought possible.

It soothed an ache in my soul.

It was time. My time.

And do you know what happened when he finally watched his dreams come true?

He chose him.

He chose him.

He chose him.

Again and again and again.

He chose to set bigger goals.

He chose to spend more time at work chasing those dreams.

He chose the opportunities no matter where they were.

He chose things that made me uncomfortable.

He chose to go more places.

He chose to revel in his success.

He chose him. Again and again and again.

And I wasn’t mad.

Because I was so proud of him.

He did it. He made it. He beat the odds.

And I was a part of that.

I wasn’t mad.

But I was soul crushingly sad.

Because where did that leave me?

I had chosen this.

I had chosen him.

Even when it was to my detriment.

Even when it hurt.

Even when the burdens were too much.

Even when I really, honestly shouldn’t have.

And now, when I thought I might get a turn, he also chose him.

He chose himself again and again and again.

Had I not sacrificed enough?

Was I not important enough?

Did I have to dim myself so that he could have it all?

And you might think this is a letter of hate.

A seething description of how horrible he is.

But it’s not.

Oh, it’s not a letter of hate at all.

He’s not horrible, and I knew where to direct my anger.

I understood.

I had taught him exactly how to treat me by how I treated myself.

By ignoring myself.

By making him more important than me.

By giving away all my power.

So it’s not a letter of hate.

Not to him.

Not at all.

And if I could do it all again, I’d still choose him.

I’d choose to support and love and believe in him so that he could reach his dreams.

Selflessness and love can only bring goodness into the world.

But let me tell you.

I’d choose me, too.

I’d choose me so much more.

I’d choose the school I wanted.

I’d choose the summer in Spain.

I’d choose my family.

I’d choose me.

I don’t regret choosing to love another human being.

I don’t regret choosing to help him reach his potential.

I don’t regret being the only one in his corner.

I don’t regret pouring love into his soul.

But I do regret not choosing me.

I regret not realizing that I was important, too.

I regret giving without ever, ever asking for anything for myself.

And now, there’s no one left to choose me.

No one left to let me try.

No one there to pick up the burden and carry it for a while.

So now, in the tiny spaces in between, I choose me.

And it’s probably too late, and the moments too small.

But I do it anyway.

I choose me.

I choose me.

I choose me.

Again and again and again.

And I hope you choose to love and support and believe in your people.

I hope you choose to love with all your heart.

But I hope you choose you, too.

I hope you choose to look in the mirror and love that person just as much.

Oh, I hope you choose you, too.

I grew up with the Olsen twins. Full House was a staple show in our house and many other houses as well. When I was a kid, I waited all week for the series finale. ALL. WEEK. When Friday afternoon finally rolled around, I was prepared. I had my TV turned to the right channel. I was in my room, comfortable on my bed. I was NOT going to miss this.

And then I missed it. I got so comfortable — too comfortable — that I fell asleep. I cried. Literally.

Now, my own kids are watching the series on Hulu. I’ve heard “How Rude” and “You got it, dude” more times than I can count.

That show is a gem. But I digress. The fact is that Full House started a really cool career path for the Olsen twins.

Beyond Full House, I also watched the Olsen twins in It Takes Two (loved it), To Grandmother’s House We Go, and numerous videos that centered around them. Everyone wanted to be an Olsen twin.

And then, they disappeared. Good for them.

Luckily, they resurface every now and again to share their blank (but beautiful) stares, fashion that is way over my head, and … even some really good life advice. Actually, some of the best advice I’ve ever heard. Advice that I now share all the time to anyone who will listen. Because it’s that good.

“No is a full sentence.”

That’s it. That’s the advice. You can watch the Olsen twins give this advice for themselves here: The Olsens on Letterman.

It’s simple, but it’s so profound. No need to explain yourself. No need to justify. You just say NO, and that’s it.

I think this is a piece of advice that literally everyone should take to heart, especially women and girls. You don’t owe anyone anything. You can say NO because it feels like the right thing to do, or because you can’t do something, or just because you feel like it.

Say NO. The end.

When I was a kid, my parents would go places and I couldn’t even get in touch with them. If I needed them, I couldn’t call or text them. I couldn’t find their location using an app, couldn’t facetime them.  I would have to call the store or wherever they were, or I would have to wait for them to come home. 

Can you believe that? 

I don’t even know how we survived. 

Constant accessibility is actually a really modern concept. And good grief, is it exhausting. 

It’s no wonder that, so far in 2024, the #38 most googled question is: How do I delete instagram? And number #53: How do I delete my facebook account? 

We’re addicted to the likes and the constant notifications, no doubt, but dare I say, we’re getting a little sick of it. 

I know I am. 

But more than getting sick of it, I think it might be killing us.

According to a study at Yale, social media use in teens literally changes the brain. In 2023, the American Psychological Association issued a health warning advising against the use of social media.

And yet … we just keep on using it. I, myself, am included in this group. I am fully aware of the impact of social media on my own mental health, but I just keep using it.

Why? FOMO. We can’t stand the thought of being left out.

And to make matters worse, even when we’re not staring at our feeds on social media, we’re still CONSTANTLY connected.

This morning, I saw posts about breakfast, laundry, and birthday parties. I saw rants about TRUMP and theories about how BIDEN is a clone. I watched people hurry to church just to sit through the entire thing on their phones.

My own phone has dinged and vibrated at me with notification after notification. And even when I swear I’m not going to look this time, I eventually reach for the phone. 

If people want to get in touch with me, they text. And they expect a response within the next few minutes. If I don’t respond, or dare I forget, I’m considered rude. All because I wasn’t constantly available. 

The facts about our constant connection are actually quite alarming.

• Americans check their phones, on average, 144 times per day. 
• But aside from checking those little dings, we use our phones an average of 4.5 hours per day. 
• It’s estimated that more than 5 billion people send and receive text messages, 95% of which are read and responded to within five minutes. 

We are slaves to our phones. 

Can you imagine being a teenager in today’s world? Being bombarded with the newest trends and being expected to keep up? Having your EVERY move recorded? When I was a teen, I made a TON of stupid mistakes, and I can only thank the heavens that they weren’t caught on the internet. Forever. These poor kids …

Do I expect this to change? Not at all. Although there has been a recent push for the dumb phone – because maybe we really are tired of being constantly connected. 

Maybe we really aren’t interested in being available 24/7. Maybe instant gratification isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Maybe we want to breathe without the constant pressure of availability. 

MAYBE WE SHOULD DO BETTER FOR THE KIDS. Maybe we should turn it all off and forget the horrible experiment that is social media. We won’t. But maybe we should.

And now, just in case you really want to take the plunge …

If you want to delete Instagram, this is from Instagram itself:

• Click More in the bottom left, then click Settings.
• Click Accounts Center, then click Personal details.
• Click Account ownership and control, then click Deactivation or deletion.
• Click the account you’d like to permanently delete.
• Click Delete account, then click Continue.

And to delete Facebook:

• Click your profile picture in the top right of Facebook.
• Select Settings & Privacy, then click Settings.
• If Accounts Center is at the top left of your Settings menu, you can delete your account through Accounts Center. If Accounts Center is at the bottom left of your Settings menu, you can delete your account through your Facebook Settings.

I probably won’t delete my social media just yet, although I do think about it often. I miss the days of answering machines and rotary phones. I miss having to wait for some things. Constant connectivity is exhausting. Social media is slowly killing us from the inside out. Maybe pick up a book and a coffee and a good meal today … and don’t tell the world about it.