You can’t get to age 60 without making a few mistakes. These range from small missteps, which nibble at us to larger errors, which keep us up at night. Perhaps the most harmful memories are of the times when we have accidentally hurt someone else – or ourselves for that matter!
For most of our lives, we measure ourselves against other people. When we ask ourselves, “was I a good mom?” we are comparing ourselves to all of the other moms in the world.
Do you ever feel overwhelmed by the challenges that are presented by everyday life? Do you feel like finding happiness is a distant goal? You’re not alone!
There’s a saying I’d like to explore with you: “Believe you can or believe you can’t, either way you’re right.” It points to the importance of confidence and positive self-belief in accomplishing our goals at any age, but more so in the years after 60. The challenge is maintaining that confidence through tough times.
Are you the best person that you can be? It’s a simple question, but, its consequences are far reaching. Why?
Because making a commitment to self-improvement puts us in control of our lives – and a sense of control is a cornerstone of positivity. By taking action to be the best person we can be, we assert our right to judge ourselves. At the same time, we deny the right of others to judge us.
I saw a meme on Facebook last week with the following instruction: “think of one thing that makes you happy and smile.”
This blog is part two of a three-part series describing the six dimensions of wellness: physical, social, emotional, spiritual, intellectual and vocational and how they work together to form whole-person wellness.
At the beginning of the growing season, I purchased a beautiful flowering plant. It grows tall and its blooms are bright. The hot summer sun seemed to thwart its growth. I thought, “Well, that was a short blooming season.”
There was no time for a blow dryer. For the past few weeks, my hair has been in braids anyway.
The hours of sorting, packing and otherwise running errands for my upcoming move from Ashland to Austin left me, most days, in desperate need of a hot, soapy shower. My look had definitely morphed to Grandma Clampett, sans the shotgun.