#URBAN DICTIONARY: #Black Don’t Crack: The skin of African Americans does not wrinkle and show age as much as individuals from other ethnic backgrounds.
Why did I choose the name “My Black is Not Cracking?” Well, for years I had heard that phrase. Well into my 30’s I would get carded and there would be a surprising response upon inspection of my driver’s license. If the guy carding me happened to be African American, I would often hear that phrase. “Black don’t crack.” I used to think it was funny. And it felt like a compliment. I mean who doesn’t want to be mistaken for someone younger?
And that is the issue that bugs me the most now. Why are we all so obsessed with being mistaken for someone younger? With Anti-Aging? Why is it not okay to be the age that you are? Why do we live in such a youth obsessed culture? I totally understand that looking good makes us feel good, but what I want to get to is “feeling good, making us look good!”
I don’t mean to be the bearer of bad news, but black most certainly does crack. It might crack slowly, but it cracks! I’m watching it crack…daily. And I feel bad about it, but should I? Yes, it is true the skin of African Americans doesn’t wrinkle as fast as it does for those of other ethnic backgrounds. But, as good as we may look on the outside, we disproportionately suffer from hypertension, diabetes and obesity.
Now not to get too deep into the science of why black skin doesn’t crack as fast, in a nutshell it’s because of the type of melanin found in our skin. We are walking around with natural sunscreen on. And the darker our skin, the more UV protection we get. Further, we have a type of collagen in our skin that also helps prevent sun damage.
I found this in an article in the paper some months back, that Skin specialist and aesthetician Bianca Estelle, also states that we typically have a higher oil content, so we have a natural skin hydration system that makes black skin look hydrated and smoother. In the same article, Dr. Almaani stated that although our skin does well with sun, it is still prone to discoloration, pigmentation issues from sun exposure and hormonal effects.
Another doctor, Boris Paskhover, again, same article, who is a facial plastic surgeon stated that black faces also maintain structural support longer. We are born with denser bones in our face that don’t break down as quickly as other ethnicities.
So, those are the reasons that our faces take longer to crack. In addition, we are less prone to osteoporosis. But what I really want to address is not just how we look, but how we feel. (Inside and out) Why was I so devastated when I looked in the mirror one day and pretty much every day since? (with my glasses on!) When did my face shape turn into a square?
Why are we obsessed with anti-aging, instead of aging well, with style, grace and dignity? Why is the anti-aging industry revenue projected to be some $400 BILLION, by 2027? Why do many seem to be more concerned with their face, than their bodies, minds and spirit?
That is what this is about. The title was just to get your attention. Intrigued? Offended? Curious? Whatever. You got here. I hope you will stick around because this is for all women AND those that love them.
There’s a special kind of courage that shows up as you age.
It’s not loud, like that gold lamé (The name of a fabric!) jumpsuit you wore to a black-tie event. (I sure did!) This courage is quieter, calculated, and accompanied by a touch of anxiety. Did I say a touch?
When you’re younger, you gamble on yourself with time. The odds are in your favor. When you’re older, the chips on the table look a lot like savings, retirement income, and the haunting voice of financial responsibility whispering, “B*@$h, are you crazy? You better start taste-testing dog food now!”
I want to take chances. I want to invest in my dreams. Produce my shows. Self-publish my books. (Basically, the scripts I converted to novel format because it’s easier to sell a book than a movie! Hopefully, it will be much easier to get $10 out of someone than $1-2 million. We shall see!)
I want to bet on the ideas that have been patiently tapping me on the shoulder for years saying, “What ya waiting on? It’s your turn. It’s your time!” Now, I have my daughter tapping me on the shoulder asking me, “Mom, what are you waiting on!” She’s even harder to ignore.
I have always been a risk-taker. Until I wasn’t! I packed up and went to LA with just a part-time job lined up. I was always, as my sister called me, “ballsy.” But truth is, it hits different when your income is fixed and already stretched. There’s no magical “I’ll just make it back later” mindset when later is already here and your shoes are more comfortable than cute.
So yes, I hesitate. I look at what’s left of my savings (very little of which is liquid at this point!) like it’s a fragile antique I inherited from my past self. I fear spending during such unpredictable and for many, unstable times. Hell, I feared they might not show up in 2018 when I had well-paying work and could afford to take the financial hit if they didn’t. BUT THEY DID! Hundreds! To my first production. Hell, as I understand it, Tyler Perry lost his shirt on his first production and look at him now. I am proud to say I broke even. Was I scared? Absolutely. Even more so when the night before at the final rehearsal, no one could seem to remember their lines. I went to bed with the voice of Carrie’s mom from the movie Carrie saying, “There gonna laugh at you!” (google the scene)
BUT…
What’s the point of saving for a life you aren’t fully living? My thoughts are that most have saved just to exist later. Sure, some retire with a shit-ton of money and travel the world on their yachts, but if I were a gambling woman, I would bet that is a small percentage of folks. (And we know how most voted…Did I say that?) The rest of us are just trying to keep the roof over our heads, the lights and heat on, and the fridge and pantry stocked!
That said, at this stage, gambling on yourself isn’t about recklessness. It’s about refusing to let fear be the final decision-maker. It’s about honoring the fact that dreams don’t expire just because paychecks do. I sure do miss that paycheck.
I need to remind myself: (or convince myself!)
I’m not throwing money away.
I’m investing in purpose.
In creativity.
In joy.
In the version of me that refuses to quietly fade into practicality.
I bought this card many years ago and taped it to my monitor. It said, “Leap and the net shall appear.”
Courage now doesn’t look like jumping without a net. It looks like me and my trusty notebooks, my investment spreadsheet open, deep breaths taken and still saying to myself, “I believe in myself enough to try.” Of course, I might need to say that to myself a few more times. I made a promise to myself that for my birthday, I would take one step. Not giving up my actual birthday to the masses, but it’s closing in. No idea what that step was, but maybe comment, and remind me!
BET ON YOURSELF! Roll the dice.
And maybe that’s the bravest bet of all.
I checked my activity on Instagram yesterday and was horrified.
Two hours a day! What in the actual f*#k?
On average.
I am posting this today, because it feels urgent. You can think about it over the weekend.
Now in my defense, some days I barely touched it. (I sure hope this includes the dozens of reels sent by friends and family to view!) But apparently other days said, “How about we make up the difference today?” That is an insane amount of time to waste. Two hours a day? That’s a part-time job. With no benefits. And definitely no retirement plan. I could write a book in a matter of months if I dedicated those two hours a day to writing! And let us be real. A large percentage of what is posted is fake, AI, lies, misinformation and folks desperate to be seen, so they stick their big ass heads down in the corner and shake their heads for dramatic affect.
What makes it worse is I’m always rushing, short on time, behind on my goals, and can’t seem to find enough hours for self-care or the projects I actually care about. Meanwhile… the phone is over there like, “Girl, do it later.” BUT it’s already LATER!
As we get older, time starts to feel less like an endless resource and more like a limited-edition item. So, I have to ask myself, do I really have time to waste? We can all use a good laugh, and sure, some people get legit news from social media by following independent journalists. But let’s be honest… that is not what most of us are doing when we’re scrolling. We’re not staying informed. We’re watching strangers organize their pantry and comparing our lives to people using filters and good lighting.
Again, in my defense, I look at a lot of art and I follow a lot of fine artists. I find it inspiring and I have learned techniques for whenever I get around to picking up the paint brush again. I also look for inspiration in the kitchen and you can find some really good ideas and recipes to try. I’m going to hope that is where the majority of my two hours was spent! (Looking at food and watching painting demos! Yup. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. It’s mostly true.) Not sure that’s what ya’ll are looking at!
If you have goals—real goals, important things you want to accomplish, do you really want to waste your precious time scrolling? Not to mention how addicted we’ve become. So addicted that we’re missing what’s actually happening right in front of us. We’re busy taking pictures of life instead of living it.
Photos are nice. But we took a whole lot fewer of them when we had to get them developed and it cost money! Back then, you documented the important moments, not your nail polish options or your ugly brown pot roast you just made. Some things were allowed to exist without proof.
Look up. Look ahead.
I’ve been in the gym waiting on a machine while someone sits on it texting like they’re negotiating a peace treaty. I’ve been in restaurants where every single person is staring at a phone instead of the people they came with. It’s troubling how addicted and detached we’ve become.
I’m not saying throw your phone into the ocean. I’m just saying… maybe don’t give it two hours of your life every day while telling yourself you don’t have time for you. Think about all the things you could have done with those two hours!
Work out? Learn something? Relax with a good book? Meditate? Take a walk? Reach out to a friend? Organize and declutter?
Time is the one thing we can’t get back. And I’m starting to realize, it’s not that I don’t have enough of it. It’s that I and many others have been giving too much of it away!
USE IT WISELY THIS WEEKEND.
This is kind of a follow-up to my post about shedding… and the one about writing (or rewriting) your third act.
So, here’s what’s happening. In just a few days, I’ll find out if I’m receiving a writing fellowship… aka a grant… aka someone possibly giving me money to do one of the things I actually enjoy. This is the FIRST time I’ve ever applied for a grant for ME.
I’ve written plenty of grants for other people. I’ve helped other folks get their dreams get funded. But this time? I finally looked at myself and said, “Okay girl… what about your dream?”
I also entered my very first screenplay competition. Fortunately, I was able to accomplish this before I started punching the clock again. (40 years later.)
Yes. My first. (And only 12 screenplays later.)
Now, I might be slightly delusional, but I truly believe some good news is headed my way. Because I believed in myself enough to apply. Enough to enter. Enough to silence the doubts and fears long enough to hit that magical button:
SUBMIT.
I stepped outside my comfort zone again. It’s been a while. The last time I did that was in 2018 when I put my show on the stage. That was scary, but we must all do some things that scare us; to get to the other side of fear.
And here’s the part I’m most proud of: I dedicated a few weeks of mornings to me. Just me. No capes. No rescuing. No running around making everyone else’s life work.
So how did I find the time?
Spoiler alert: well they damn sure did not add extra hours to the day. I made the time by doing just a little less for others… and choosing myself. I did it by hanging up my superhero cape for just one hour a day. (Sometimes I would only have 30 minutes to spare!)
First and foremost, let me say this AGAIN. We are ALL creative and every day we are creating our life and our future. Each day you (And I) have a choice to either keep living the life script you’ve written so far… or you can do what every good writer does and edit the S#*T out of the mess.
Most of us are walking around in a first draft. And if your life were a movie right now, you might be thinking, “Why is this scene still in here? Who approved this subplot? And why do I keep giving this character so much screen time?”
Our lives are basically an in-progress screenplay, and the good news is you are both the main character and the editor. You get to look at what’s working, what’s not, and what needs to be cut.
As you evolve, you don’t have to keep accepting the script you wrote when you were younger, more confused, unaware, and thought toxic people were just “challenging supporting characters.” NOPE! You can rewrite. Write their asses out of your script entirely.
In all honesty, I’m struggling in my attempts to rewrite Act Three. Editing real life isn’t as easy as deleting a line of text. If it were, we’d all be hitting the hell out of the backspace key on emotional baggage, purchases, and that one relationship we should’ve ended in Season One.
Some things take time to edit out, like unhealthy relationships, draining habits, obligations that make you tired just thinking about them. But when you start cutting what isn’t working, you feel lighter. Like you finally cleaned out the closet of your soul and stopped keeping things that “spark zero joy!” You can Marie Kondo the s#*t out of your life, not just your junk drawer!
Editing your life can look like:
- Dropping activities that stress you out
- Distancing yourself from energy vampires
- Letting go of baggage you’ve been dragging around like an overpacked carry-on
To begin, reflect on your experiences; the good, the bad, the ugly, and the “why did I say yes to that?” moments. When you realize something no longer serves you, give yourself permission to remove it. There is no perfect timeline. A good rewrite might take a little time.
Then ask yourself: what has brought you real bliss? What makes you feel alive? And how can you write more of that into your story now? As much as I didn’t want to, I have to set the alarm thirty minutes earlier so that I can still have time to write in the AM. Make no mistake, the snooze button is tempting as hell.
With a little editing, you can clear out what isn’t working and make room for more happiness, love, wisdom, and fewer unnecessary plot twists.
Because you deserve a life that feels less like a rough draft…
…and more like a bestseller.
I saw the coolest thing on Instagram the other day. There’s a place in NYC called The Happy Medium. It’s an arts club. Not a gallery. An actual club for creativity.
They offer workshops in pottery, painting, drawing. You can even learn how to build a damn chair or a lamp. You choose from a menu of creativity. Instead of ordering food or drinks, you order art experiences. That idea alone stopped me in my scroll. I’ve written about this before, but I feel so strongly about the benefits of expressing creativity, that I’m revisiting the topic. Perhaps I needed the reminder!
Visiting the Happy Medium’s website immediately took me back about twenty years to when I was living in downtown LA. I walked into the art supply store around the corner and bought paints and supplies, even though I hadn’t painted since a watercolor class a decade earlier, before that, in high school. In the early ’90s I’d picked up pencils and drawn a bit, but outside of writing (which I had just begun) my only consistent creative outlet was in the kitchen. And yes, they’re called the culinary arts for a reason.
My paintings weren’t very good. But I loved painting. I was drawn more to collage, though I never quite got around to it. Last year I even took an online collage course, but life did what life does, and I never really started.
What I did discover, over and over again, was this: whether it was writing, painting, or cooking, anything creative completely relaxed me. I would get lost in it. I’d start early in the day and suddenly realize it was dark outside. It was an escape. Not from life, but from mental noise. I was giving a part of my brain a much-needed break.
For a long time, one of the things I looked forward to when I imagined I might no longer have to work (silly me) was finally having time for creative interests. Time to actually learn how to paint and to explore collage and other mediums.
As usual, that curiosity led me once again to research the benefits of creative pursuits as we age. (Especially now, when it feels like both the current administration and AI are doing their best to squeeze the arts into irrelevance.) Unbelievable as it may seem, I wasn’t even aware of ChatGPT until I mentioned to a friend that I needed to send thank-you notes for foundation donations and he suggested I “just use ChatGPT.”
Because yes, a robot writing thank-you notes would feel so genuine. NOT.
Don’t get me wrong, technology is incredible when it assists rather than replaces. I feel the same way about how technology has nearly destroyed the music industry, replacing real musicians with computers, and now attempting to replace artists altogether. Seriously… do we really want robots in concert? Everything already sounds the same, and not in a good way. I’m grateful I grew up in an era of real art, real musicians, real music, and producers who actually produced and not just glorified computer programmers!
Okay….slight detour.
What this post is really about is this. The anti-aging benefits of engaging in and enjoying the arts, and why creativity isn’t a luxury as we get older, but a necessity.
We spend a lot of time talking about anti-aging in terms of creams, supplements, diets, and workouts. But one of the most powerful and most joyful anti-aging tools is often overlooked: participating in and enjoying the arts.
The arts don’t just make life richer. They actively help keep us younger, and not only mentally, but emotionally, and even physically.
When you engage with the arts, whether it’s painting, dancing, acting, singing, writing, playing music, attending theater, or visiting museums, your brain lights up. Multiple areas activate at once: memory, imagination, emotion, coordination, and problem-solving. This kind of stimulation helps build and maintain neural connections, which is critical as we age. In other words, the arts help keep your brain flexible, curious, and resilient.
Creativity also reduces stress and trust me, I know first-hand that stress is one of the biggest accelerators of aging. Immersing yourself in music, movement, or creative expression lowers cortisol levels, slows the nervous system, and promotes a state of flow. In that space, time softens, and worries fades. Your body and mind get a break from survival mode, which supports better sleep, improved immunity, and overall vitality.
There’s also the emotional benefit. The arts give us a place to process grief, joy, anger, love, regret, and hope! (All the complex emotions that come with living longer.) Suppressed emotions age us. Expressed emotions heal us. Creative outlets allow us to release what we carry instead of letting it harden inside our bodies.
Social connection is another powerful anti-aging factor. Participating in the arts often brings people together for rehearsals, classes, workshops, galleries, audiences. Loneliness has been shown to age us faster than many physical conditions. The arts create community, shared experience, and a sense of belonging, all of which are essential for long-term well-being.
And then there’s identity. Aging can make people feel invisible, irrelevant, or “past their prime.” The arts push back against that narrative. They remind us that growth doesn’t stop at a certain age. You can still learn, still create, still surprise yourself. Every new skill, role, or expression reinforces the truth that you are still evolving.
Perhaps most importantly, the arts reconnect us to joy, and joy is not frivolous. Joy is regenerative. It brings lightness to the body, softness to the face, energy to the spirit. People who regularly experience joy don’t just feel younger; they look younger because they are more alive.
Anti-aging isn’t only about adding years to your life. It’s about adding life to your years.
The arts do exactly that.
So, pick up the brush or even a pen. Write a story. Write your story. Join the dance class. Write the poem. Go to the play. Sing out loud. Your mind, body, and spirit will thank you!
There comes a moment when you realize you’re exhausted and not because you’re weak, but because you’ve been strong for too long.
If you’re feeling unappreciated or taken for granted, it’s often not because the people around you are malicious. It’s because you became reliable. Capable. The one who handled it. Fixed it. Filled the gap. Carried the load. You put on the superhero cape without being asked, and over time, people stopped noticing the weight of it. They just noticed that things got done. She’s got it!
Doing too much has a cost.
When you consistently show up as the rescuer, the organizer, the fixer, the emotional anchor, you quietly teach people what to expect from you. Not because you said it out loud, but because your actions did. And eventually, your effort becomes invisible. Not valued less, just assumed.
It can be a painful realization.
What makes it harder is the guilt that creeps in when you finally want to step back. You’re tired. You want rest. You want reciprocity. You want space. But the moment you pause, folks assume something is wrong. Well, it kinda is. I’m tired.
Here’s the truth that takes a long time to accept:
You are allowed to take off the cape.
Handling these feelings starts with being honest with yourself.
Ask yourself:
- Why did I feel responsible for doing it all?
- What was I trying to prove? And why?
- Who benefited from my over-functioning?
- What did it cost me? Physically? Emotionally? Mentally? What did it cost them?
This isn’t about blame. It’s about awareness.
Next comes boundaries. And boundaries often feel like betrayal when you’ve built your identity around being “the one who always shows up.” But boundaries are not punishment. They are information. They tell others what is sustainable for you now, rather than what you used to tolerate.
You don’t need to announce your burnout with a speech. You don’t need to justify your rest. You can simply do less. Say no more often. Pause before volunteering. Let silence exist where you used to rush in.
Some people will struggle with this new version of you. That doesn’t mean you’re wrong. It means the dynamic has changed.
And yes, some relationships may shift. When people are used to receiving, your absence will feel like loss. But the people who truly value you will adjust. They’ll notice. They’ll meet you closer to the middle.
Finally, learn to appreciate yourself in the ways others didn’t. Acknowledge what you carried. Honor the effort you gave freely. And forgive yourself for not knowing sooner that being everything to everyone often means becoming nothing to yourself.
You don’t stop being strong when you take off the cape.
You become human again.
That’s not failure.
That’s growth.
There’s a quiet panic that settles in when you realize you’re in what feels like your final act.
Not the dramatic kind. No curtain call. Just a slow, unsettling awareness that the road behind you is longer than the one ahead. And sadly, it feels as if the life you imagined never fully arrived. (Or in keeping the faith, it hasn’t arrived YET!)
Damn. This isn’t how it was supposed to go.
You wonder how close you came to reaching your potential. You know you haven’t. You wonder if this is the final shape of your life, or just another detour you didn’t plan on taking. I am supposed to be in the theater with my name on the marquee outside, waiting for my next production to start, creating, painting, writing, getting massages, watching waves, taking long walks, yoga and tai chi classes, visiting art galleries, dining with the few friends that remain, or sitting in a big ass chair with a stack of food magazines!
You took Mom’s advice. Study accounting. You’ll always have something to fall back on. You’ll always be able to work. The world will always need folks to crunch numbers. You did what you were told. You worked. Boring and unfulfilling as it was, you worked; sometimes, several jobs at once. Did I say sometimes? I mean, mostly! You raised folks. You sacrificed. You postponed joy, postponed rest, postponed yourself, trusting that later would make good on all those delays. Later was supposed to be the payoff. Later was supposed to be freedom. I have never felt less free. WTH?
And yet here you are, in retirement, or at least something that looks like it on paper and yet forced to take a job just to make the numbers work. To PAY FOR YOUR HEALTH EXTORTION, I meant health insurance! Gee thanks! (you know who you are!) Supplement the supplement check. Cover the gap. Ease the anxiety. Somehow, impossibly, you’ve ended up punching a clock again after not punching one for 35 or 40 years. What in the actual f#?k!
That part stings more than you expect.
You’re back to living for the weekend. Back to counting days. Back to watching the clock, only now your patience is thinner, and the time feels infinitely more precious. Mondays arrive with a weight they shouldn’t have at this stage of life.
And then come the questions.
“So, how was your weekend?”
They ask it, smiling and with the best intentions. Casually. Coworkers half your age, full of time they don’t yet understand is finite. You force a smile and give the only honest answer you have: “ABOUT FIVE DAYS TOO DAMN SHORT!”
They laugh. You don’t. It ain’t funny!
Because at this age, weekends shouldn’t be the reward. Holidays shouldn’t feel like oxygen. Vacation days shouldn’t be counted like lifelines. You believed that this chapter would be different. That you’d finally be done doing what you HAD to do and would only be doing what you WANT to do. What you enjoyed. What fed you instead of drained you.
There’s gratitude, of course. You appreciate that someone hired you at this age, in a world that quietly discards older people the moment their hair grays or their pace slows. (“I DON’T MEAN ME.” In my nurse from Doc Holiday movie voice.) I CAN RUN CIRCLES AROUND THESE YOUNG FOLK! You know that isn’t nothing. You remind yourself to be thankful.
But resentment sneaks in anyway.
Resentment that survival is still dictating your choices. That after a lifetime of effort, you’re still negotiating with necessity instead of desire. That freedom feels conditional when it was supposed to be earned.
And in the quiet moments like driving home, lying awake, staring at darkness, you start questioning everything.
The decisions you made.
The risks you didn’t take. (and trust and believe I took many!)
The dreams you deferred one too many times.
The version of yourself you were sure you’d become.
No one really prepares you for this reckoning. For the grief of unmet expectations. For the strange mix of exhaustion and restlessness. For the feeling that time is suddenly loud AF.
And yet, here you are. Still showing up. Still breathing. Still capable of wanting more.
Questioning how you got here doesn’t mean you’ve failed. It means you’re awake. And as long as you’re awake, the story, however frustrating, and however unfair, ain’t completely over!
I’m going to figure it out folks and if you’re right there with me, you will too! Keep the faith. What else have we got?
Damn. Why did I say that? Why did I do that? How did I screw that up? How could I be so stupid? I wish I wouldn’t have……..(Fill in the blank!)
Regret is a strange companion. It shows up uninvited, usually late at night or in the quiet moments when we’re finally still. It replays old scenes with brutal precision; what you said, what you didn’t say, the door you walked through instead of the one you hesitated in front of. And it always carries the same accusation whispered in the silence. “You should have known better.”
But the truth is, regret is useless.
Not because the past didn’t matter. Not because the choices weren’t real or the consequences weren’t painful. They were. Some are still painful if we allow them to be. But regret assumes something that simply isn’t true. It assumes that you had access then to the wisdom, clarity, courage, or emotional maturity you have now. Cue the game show wrong answer buzzer!
You didn’t. That’s not how this works!
You made the best decisions you could with what you knew, what you felt, and who you were at that moment. That version of you was likely shaped by fear, hope, survival, love, trauma, and desire. Judging that person through the lens of who you’ve become is unfair. It’s like scolding a child for not understanding the demands of adulthood.
When you’re young, you’re busy surviving and becoming. There’s no time to linger over every misstep. But as the years begin to stack up, reflection becomes unavoidable. We look back with sharper eyes and wiser minds while listening to the ticking clock of time. Wisdom is earned through lived experience. And lived experience is often messy.
We tell ourselves that regret keeps us accountable. That if we hold onto it long enough, we’ll somehow redeem the past. But news flash! The past is not accepting revisions. It is closed. Final. Done. Untouchable. All regret can do is keep you emotionally tethered to a moment that no longer exists, draining energy from the only place where change is possible. RIGHT NOW.
Regret doesn’t fix what happened. It doesn’t heal the wound. It doesn’t resurrect the relationship, the opportunity, the version of life you imagined. It just keeps reopening the scar, convincing you that pain is proof of growth.
Nope! It isn’t.
Growth comes from reflection, not punishment. It comes from asking, what did this teach me? What did I learn? (Instead of why was I so damn stupid?) Regret wants you to stay stuck in shame. Wisdom wants you to move forward.
There are things I wish I’d said differently, or not said at all. Situations I wish I’d left sooner. People I wish I’d protected myself from. But wishing doesn’t honor the life I was living then. It erases it. That life, messy as it was, carried me here. And here is where I finally understand things I couldn’t before.
Regret also has a sneaky way of romanticizing roads not taken. It has a way of editing out the reality, the stress, the trade-offs, the unknown, and replaces it with a fantasy version where everything worked out perfectly. As if! Every path closes off another. That’s not failure. That’s called being human.
Letting go of regret doesn’t mean pretending you don’t care. It means choosing compassion over cruelty. It means acknowledging that you survived, learned, adapted. It means trusting that the clarity you have now is because of what you lived through, not in spite of it.
If the past could be changed, most of us would have changed already. Since it can’t, the most radical thing you can do is stop dragging it into the present.
The past is done. The lesson remains.
And that’s all you ever needed to carry forward. Let the rest of that S*#T go! Carrying all that mess is heavy! Lighten your load.
I know, it ain’t easy, but it is necessary.
I used to believe that holding on was a sign of loyalty. That endurance meant strength. That if something or someone had been part of my life for a long time, I owed it permanence.
There comes a moment in life, sometimes quietly, sometimes like a lightening bolt, when you realize that certain things, habits, and even people no longer fit who you’ve become.
Not because they’re bad.
Not because you’re better.
But because you’ve grown.
Growth has a way of rearranging everything. What once felt familiar can begin to feel heavy. What once energized you can start to drain you. And relationships that once made sense may no longer align with the person you are becoming.
This is where shedding begins.
Letting go isn’t an act of cruelty. It’s an act of honesty. It’s acknowledging that holding on to what no longer serves you comes at a cost. That cost might be your peace, your clarity, or your ability to move forward.
There comes a quiet moment and sometimes after a season of discomfort, sometimes after a single, unmistakable realization, when you recognize that what once fit you no longer does. The conversations feel forced. The spaces feel smaller. The version of you that once thrived there feels like a past life.
Admitting that is painful.
I have talked a lot about grief and the loss over loved ones and friends over the past few years, but rarely does anyone talk about the grief that comes with becoming. We celebrate growth, but we don’t always acknowledge what it costs. Because growth often requires shedding; shedding layers, identities, relationships, and even dreams.
There is real pain in outgrowing people and places. There is grief in recognizing that a chapter has ended, even if it was beautiful while it lasted. We often mourn not just what was, but what we hoped it would continue to be. And that grief deserves space.
I’ve learned that not everything that was right for you once is meant to walk with you forever. And that doesn’t make those people or moments less meaningful. It just means their purpose in your life has changed.
Some relationships don’t end with explosions. (Sometimes they DO!) They fade. They soften. They shift into something quieter and more distant. I’ve had to learn that loving someone doesn’t always mean keeping them close. Sometimes it means wishing them well from afar. Sometimes, the healthiest choice is to love people from a distance.
Shedding also applies to things like roles we’ve outgrown, expectations we never chose, beliefs that once protected us, but now limit us. We carry so much without questioning whether it still belongs to us. Growth asks us to check in and decide what we’re willing to keep carrying forward.
Here’s the hard truth: growth is not comfortable. It’s disruptive. It asks for courage and a willingness to sit with discomfort. But stagnation is far more dangerous. Because if you are not growing, you are slowly dying, and not always physically, but emotionally, creatively, spiritually. You begin to shrink yourself to fit spaces you’ve already outgrown. That kind of distance can feel like betrayal. Especially when you’re the one choosing it.
I’ve wrestled with guilt. With second-guessing. With the fear of being misunderstood. But over time, I’ve realized that abandoning myself to keep others comfortable is not kindness. It’s self-erasure.
Letting go has forced me to confront who I am now, not who I used to be or who others expect me to remain. It’s required honesty about what drains me and what sustains me. It’s meant releasing old roles that I played well.
And yes, it has hurt. It ain’t easy.
There are moments when I miss versions of my life that no longer exist. When I wonder if I’ve changed too much. When I feel the ache of absence where familiarity once lived. It can be a lonely place to be. But I am also starting to feel something else. Relief.
I’ve come to understand that growth is not optional. You’re either expanding, or you’re slowly shrinking. You’re either evolving, or you are quietly fading. Letting go is not failure. It’s evidence that you are listening to your intuition and your needs. It’s proof you are becoming.
So, I’m learning to release with grace. To honor what was without forcing it to remain. To trust that making space is an act of faith that something more fitting, more nourishing will eventually fill it.
This is what growth looks like for me now.
And I’m choosing it, even when it hurts.
Photo by Thirdman : https://www.pexels.com/photo/a-text-saying-move-on-made-from-tiles-with-letters-lying-on-pink-background-5981365/
Happy Holidays to All!
I will be taking the rest of the year off for self-care and family care. My daughter is navigating a temporary MS setback, and right now my priority is being fully present for her, my grandson, and for myself.
This season, I’m choosing to reset. To guide us both through a detox of both body and mind. To slow down. To give my family, and myself, the gift of time, rest, and space to heal.
I’ll be back in 2026; healthier, clearer, and happier. Thank you for understanding and for all the love and support.
Daily Habits That Add Years to Your Life. GOOD ONES!
Many believe that longevity is written in our DNA, but research shows lifestyle plays a bigger role than genetics. In fact, scientists estimate only about 20% of how long we live is genetic; the other 80% depends on daily choices. You read that right. It means we control 80% of how we age. So, before you get to Googling “eternal youth potions,” let’s talk about some simple, realistic, and even fun ways to stack the longevity odds in your favor. And before you roll your eyes, the habits that can add years to your life don’t require giving up joy, flavor, or fun. You won’t have to survive on kale and regret!
Getting Older Isn’t the Problem—Feeling Old Is
There are days our knees crack louder than a bowl of sugar-laden rice crispies cereal, and we forget why we walked into a room. But the good news is that how long we live (and how good those years feel) isn’t just a result of luck or genetics. It’s about consistency. It’s about choosing, day after day to do the little things that keep us not just living, but thriving.
1. Move Daily (Preferably More Than Just to the Fridge)
No, you don’t need to go to the gym (but it’s a good idea!) run marathons or lift like a competitive body builder. Just move! Walk, stretch, dance, garden, or chase the dog. As little as 30 minutes of activity can lower disease risk and boost your mood.
2. Eat Real Food (If the ingredients include a long list of crap you can’t even pronounce, it’s not real food!)
The secret to long life doesn’t come in a box, bag, or plastic containers. Stick to whole, colorful foods that once grew in the ground, ate from the ground, or swam in the sea.
Load your plate with veggies, fruits, beans, nuts, and olive oil. It’s the kind of diet that fuels your body and keeps you feeling energetic. And yes, a sweet treat can be part of a well-balanced mental health plan but earn it!
3. Sleep Deeply (Because Coffee Can Only Hide So Much)
There was a time when we thought staying up all night was cool. Nope! It’s always been stupid. Now, a good night’s sleep feels like winning the lottery. Deep, consistent rest gives your body time to repair, recharge, and regulate.
Try setting a bedtime, dim the lights, and resist the urge to scroll through your phone until your eyes glaze over. You’ll wake up sharper, calmer, and maybe even nicer.
4. Stay Connected (Humans, Not Wi-Fi)
One of the best longevity hacks has nothing to do with diet or exercise. It’s relationships. Meaningful connection with friends, family, or your community reduces stress, improves mental health, and keeps you young at heart. Strong relationships are like vitamins for your soul. Laughing with friends, checking in with family, joining a club, or volunteering all help. Loneliness is just bad for your health, and let’s be honest, nobody wants to turn into that person arguing with the toaster. Connection keeps us grounded, joyful, and mentally sharp.
So, grab coffee or even a glass of wine with a friend, join a club, or call that person you’ve been meaning to.
5. Keep Learning (Because Curiosity Is the Real Fountain of Youth)
A curious mind is a youthful mind. Learn something new—take a class, read that book, try pickleball, or figure out what TikTok actually is. (Okay, maybe skip that last one.) The point is, keep your brain busy and your curiosity alive.
Whether it’s reading, taking a class, learning a new skill, or mastering technology, lifelong learning keeps your brain sharp and your spirit engaged.
Blue Zones Secrets: What We Can Learn from the World’s Longest-Living People
I have mentioned this in a previous post or two, but it’s worth repeating in case you missed it. Around the world, researchers have identified “Blue Zones” which are regions where people live well into their 90s and 100s with vitality and purpose. No miracle drugs or extreme diets here; just simple, consistent living.
Here’s what they all seem to have in common:
- Eat mostly plants. Beans, greens, and whole grains are daily staples.
- Move naturally. Walking, gardening, and household chores keep them strong without the need for gym memberships.
- Purpose matters. Having a reason to get up every morning adds years to their lives and meaning to their days.
- Connection is key. Family and community ties are strong; nobody goes it alone.
- Stress relief is daily. Whether it’s prayer, naps, meditation, or happy hour, (yes, really!) they know how to unwind.
Their secret? Joyful, intentional living. They don’t chase youth, they embrace life fully, one simple choice at a time.
The Bottom Line: Longevity Is a Lifestyle
Living longer isn’t about perfection. It’s about consistency. Move a little more. Eat something real. Sleep deeply. Stay connected. Keep learning. Laugh often.
You don’t have to chase youth when you’re busy enjoying your life. The goal isn’t just adding years to your life, it’s adding life to your years.
A little humor, a few naps, and a lot of love go a long way toward keeping you young.
You don’t need to become a fitness influencer or start drinking kale smoothies at sunrise. Just make small, steady choices that help you feel better, laugh more, and live longer.
Make one tiny, healthy shift this week. Swap soda for water, stretch in the morning, or add an extra vegetable to your plate. Small changes stack up to big results.
The habits that add years are simple, yet powerful:
- Move daily. Even 30 minutes of walking lowers risk of disease.
- Eat real food. Whole, colorful foods nourish the body better than anything in a box which is typically fake food.
- Sleep deeply. Rest allows your body to repair, strengthen, and reset.
- Stay connected. Meaningful relationships reduce stress and support brain health.
- Keep learning. A curious mind is a youthful mind.