As January February quickly nears its end, I’m reminded that I had intended to write a post about my 2017 reflections on, well, the first day of the new year. But then the flu happened, and then various events, and then day-to-day laundry lists and suddenly it’s nearly February March.

Better late than never, right?

Speaking of late, I realize it’s been quite a while since I’ve blogged at all. Excuses, excuses, I know, but it’s been crazy busy with all the things. I’ve had ideas simmering, and even have a handful of half-written posts, but inevitably I’m distracted or pulled away by schedule demands. As I sit here now mid-afternoon with a napping toddler, two “resting” little boys, and no known fires on the horizon, I’m hopeful I can get my thoughts down – and coherently at that.

When I think about the past year, I’m encouraged by how personally rich it was. It absolutely felt like a year of transition for me, and while I was reluctant and tentative in the beginning I’ve now embraced it. My learnings from 2017 are compelling me to take even more leaps in 2018.

I lamented the loss of my baby’s babyhood.

I almost used the word “grieved” here, but realized that word is not accurate nor sensitive to those experiencing actual grief. While my emotions were real (there were tears – so many tears), they have more to do with my own coming-to-terms with the fact that my baby is growing up. Just as he’s supposed to.

It started when he stopped nursing at 14 months – his choice, not mine. In fact, I tried to force him – over weeks – to reconsider. Offered and begged and pumped and cried (again with the tears) but his mind was made up. He was done and no longer required that experience for comfort. I was (irrationally) hurt. And emotional. And hormonal until everything began to level out.

Then the baby who had wailed until Mommy would bring him into bed every single night since birth – the baby who had clung to me with his whole little body as he drifted off – decided he no longer wanted to sleep with me. Yes, he would cuddle with the best of them as we lounged watching TV, but as soon as he began getting sleepy he would point to his crib with a firm “BED.” At first I thought it was just a game, and would laugh and hug him closer, but he would become angry with his repeated “BED, BED” until I laid him down. And again I felt rejected. Sad. My baby no longer needed me the way he used to.

I moped around in my own bubble of self-pity until the day he decided he no longer wanted to be carried up the stairs in the morning (I know, I know – but he is the baby after all). I picked him up as usual and he screamed to be put down. Again I felt that familiar pang in my heart, until he suddenly held out his hand and looked up at me. “Mama? Help, Mama?” And as he clung to my hand walking up those stairs, it occurred to me that he did still need me – just in different ways. And that it was my job to adjust my expectations as he grows so that I can be there but not stifle him. Just be.

And it’s continued. He puts on his own shoes now. Hangs his own jacket. Attempts to brush his own hair. But I’ve learned to accept that this is how it goes, that this is how it’s supposed to go, and to simply cherish each experience as it comes and then eventually goes. I still miss my baby. But then I realize he’s still here, doing exactly what he needs to be doing.

I re-engaged in my social life.

I never really realized I had disengaged, to be honest, until I looked up from the madness that is life and work plus three difficult pregnancies and baby/toddlerhood stages – and suddenly grasped that I was on the fast track to isolating myself (turns out you can only decline so many social invitations before people begin giving up on you).

I’d never intended for that to happen. Didn’t recognize it was happening. I was just so overwhelmed and deep in the weeds that is young parenting that I couldn’t bring myself to commit to even one. more. thing. before drowning completely.

But alas, it gets easier. Children grow and become more self-sufficient (read: I lamented the loss of my baby’s babyhood). And suddenly I was able to think beyond simply getting through the day to future days and even weeks. As I was needed a bit less at home, I began to remember my old social life and how personally fulfilling that had been. I realized I missed it. Needed to get out of the house more often. And I made a conscious decision to re-engage, to put myself back out there, and to accept invitations as able.

And it’s worked! Fortunately for me, I have some pretty amazing friends who simply get it. As I’ve sheepishly crawled out of the woodwork, I’ve reconnected with these people and there’s been no love lost, only welcoming arms and support. Lots of meals and wine and cathartic catch-ups later, I realize that my life is richer and happier with this network of pretty incredible people.

I refocused on my health.

Back in the day, I was pretty healthy. I exercised regularly, ate well (within reason), and was rewarded with a lot of energy and good sleep. But having three kids over five years has a way of shifting your own health to the back burner. I tried in the beginning. Oh, how I tried. During my first pregnancy I was determined, but pregnancy-related health issues made it very difficult. Then the second and third pregnancies were even more challenging, and I physically could not do it.

Then after birth, there’s nursing. My body already seems to not make enough milk, and any exercise seemed to stifle production even further, so on the couch I remained. Besides, I wasn’t ready to leave the baby in anyone’s care but my own which pretty much relegated any exercise to the weekends anyway.

But as my stress levels increased and my waistline grew, I knew I had to get back to it. I missed it. That time to myself to really focus on physical challenges and my own health. So I made a pact with myself that I would begin again on the 1st of last year (I know, cliche). I figured the baby would be just about a year old so could be left in the gym childcare room for a couple of hours while I exercised.

So I did. And boy, it was HARD. I was out of shape, out of breath, and self-conscious as I could barely muster the strength to complete a warm-up, never mind a full workout. But my stubbornness pushed me to continue and slowly – ever so slowly – I began to improve. I accepted the fact that the muscle soreness would pretty much never go away (although eventually it did – after about 4 months) and kept on. I began working out with a small group of people who I genuinely like and who hold me accountable, even if I do curse certain ones under my breath when forcing me to lift more, push more, go faster.

And this, probably more than anything, has gotten me back to ME. Made me feel more like myself again. Has improved the quality of my sleep, the fit of my clothes, and my energy levels. Has actually become fun and something I look forward to. And has connected me with people who inspire me to try things I’ve never dared before (hello climbing and kickboxing).

I said YES to new opportunities.

One of the best things about leaving a traditional full-time job is the time it frees up to focus on endeavors more interesting to you. I immediately began freelancing and part-time consulting, and have enjoyed this work immensely. But I realized that some of its greatest benefits (hours flexibility and the ability to work from anywhere) are also some of the greatest challenges (turns out I miss face-to-face adult human interaction). I wanted to continue this work that I love, but I also missed working with people in person.

And just like that – a small fitness studio opened a 6 minute walk away. As fate would have it, I’d just completed my Personal Trainer certification and was looking to get some hands-on experience working with clients to see if it was something I’d like to pursue further. I talked to the owner and it ended up being a fit – he was satisfied with the very part time hours I could provide, and I was happy to try something new and interesting. And so far, it’s been a lot of fun! I’m able to keep up with my other professional obligations while working with some pretty kick-ass clients a few times a week.

On the writing front, I began to ramp that up again as well. I’d not taken on any new clients and had neglected my blog, but again began saying YES to sponsored opportunities that came my way as able. It’s increased my workload, yes, but reignited my interest and openness for new projects vs. simply saying no every single time.

I stopped putting off recreational pursuits as well. I finally said yes to climbing (after many months of procrastination) and was surprised by how much I actually enjoyed it. It’s now become something I look forward to. Same with cooking in a new way and with getting more involved at my son’s school. Each of these opportunities has taught me more, rounded me more, and opened new doors. I plan to continue saying YES to see where it takes me.

I became more selective about who I spend time with.

Maybe that sounds bad, as if I’m a snob, but it’s really not. At my age and with my experiences, I’ve simply come to terms with the fact that my free time is limited, and I really only have a desire to spend it with people I care about. No more, no less. I don’t want to force friendships out of convenience, nurture relationships simply because I “should” (due to obligation, etc), or spend time with people I simply don’t like that much.

I’m not saying that every relationship needs to be a deep and complex soul bond, but I am saying that unless it’s bringing something positive to both people it’s not one I care to pursue. And I’ve found that by making this conscious decision, the times I spend with people are more rewarding, more carefree, and more fun. Instead of limiting my social circle, I feel that it’s widened it by freeing up space to nurture the relationships that are most important me.

And – there is something liberating about saying to yourself, “nope, don’t like that person very much” and letting it go instead of trying to force niceties, forge a bond, etc. I could definitely get used to it.

I stopped justifying my NOs.

I’ve learned that just as important as saying yes is the ability to say no – without apology, justification, or guilt. This is something I’ve struggled with for a long time, constantly feeling like I have to substantiate WHY I can’t or won’t do something. But just as I’ve begun allowing myself to say YES to me-time without guilt, I’ve also started saying NO followed by a period. No guilt, no excuses, no reasons. Simply, “I’m sorry, I won’t be able to XYZ.”

This has been a huge game-changer for me. Yes, it was awkward at first. Sometimes still. I have a natural tendency to try to fill the space after the NO. But I fake it, say my “sorry, no” firmly, and leave it at that. So far I’ve only had one situation where the requesting individual has demanded a reason. I started to give one but then stopped myself, and ended with “it just doesn’t work for us.” And that closed out the conversation.

Just like letting go of relationships I don’t care to pursue, this exercise has been liberating. I realize I don’t owe anyone except my closest family and friends an explanation for anything – and even then, those closest always respect the NO. It makes me think that I’m finally at “that age” – you know, the one everyone talks about when you finally start giving zero f—s about what anyone thinks.

I dare say I like it.

And with that, I’m ready to take 2018 by the horns! I’m starting this year (okay, okay, so it’s almost March) with optimism, energy, and excitement for more changes on the horizon. The past few years – since turning 40, having children, and going independent – have been the most transformative for me yet; I’ve learned so much about myself, my strengths, my weaknesses opportunities, and what I really want out of life. Cheers to 2018 and more developments to come!