I know. It sounds crazy.
Sitting in meditation, calm, relaxed, listening; it was about five in the morning, my quiet time. It was also about two years after leaving my marriage, and I was working on discovering Me. At this point, I was 55 years old.
This was the first time in my life that I had lived alone. I married my husband at nineteen; moved out of my parents’ home into our marital home. Right after high school graduation. No break. No time to grow up, really. Ever since I was a kid my life goal was to be married.
We make great decisions when we are kids, don’t we?
Now I was divorced. Thirty-four years had been dedicated to trying to make the marriage work, but it was doomed from the start. Our son was grown and married. It was a nerve-wracking time, figuring out my finances, changing careers, learning to make major decisions alone.
My primary focus in life, at that time, was to figure out who I was.
Sounds silly and unbelievable that, at 55 years of age, I didn’t know what I liked, which opinions were mine and which were those of others. I wasn’t sure which political party I really agreed with, if religion was a crutch, or if I truly was a slow thinker, not nearly smart enough to survive on my own.
For two years I had worked on myself, through coaching, counseling, reading, attending seminars…
