45, Hot Flashes, & Vision Boards

45, Hot Flashes, & Vision Boards

In three months, I’ll be 45. Forty-five.

I have no plans. No photo shoot, no fancy dinner, no party, no trip, nothing.

By all accounts, I should be living it up. My only child going into his second year of college, empty nester—sort of. Single AF.

But, in reality, I’m broke as fuck. ‘Trying to make a dollar out of 15 cents’ has never been more real.

My 9 to 5 pays just enough to cover my bills. Emailed the Dental Director & VP of HR, asked them to create a position, then promote me into the position. Said it sounded great, was going to take it to the board. That was in twenty twenty-four. I’m still waiting. Not really.

The side gig ain’t gigging like it used to, and I can’t find a part-time evening job to save my life.

So, here I am. Dear Diary like a MF. Very much budget Carrie Bradshaw. No money, no sex, in these Chicago suburbs. Sipping on my Cutwater through a metal straw…

Lately, I’ve been ignoring the bestie’s phone calls, cause, honestly, I ain’t got no good news and conversations feels like I’m wasting words. I’m stressed the fuck out & don’t want to hear myself complaining.

Losing my damn mind, cussing Chat GPT out cause its resume changes ain’t landed me a single interview--Fucking AI. Got about 15 different versions of my resume. Literally.

Chat be on that bullshit. Completely changed my job title from Lead Dental Assistant to Operations & Scheduling Coordinator. Like what the fuck, bro, that is not my job! You just making shit up. Then he be like, ‘Good catch’.

Good Catch?! Pissing. Me. Off. You hear me…

45. Fupa. Steroid injections in these arthritic knock knees. Cut my hair. Again. And perimenopausal. Just sweating for no ass reason.

All jokes aside, life been lifing, and one of my biggest fears is never really being able to live. To travel, to not worry about paying bills, to love.

Finally got my passport earlier this year. No travel plans. Preparing myself, I guess.

About 3 years ago, me and the boy did vision boards. I put myself on a timeline. Remote job, beach house, dream car, & a dog by 50. It’s looking a little dim right now if I’m being honest. Dim, not dark. Gotta squint, but I can still see the vision.

Not gone lie, it’s exhausting and sometimes I cry when no one is looking. But when that alarm goes off at 5 a.m., even though I’ve only had a good 3 hours of sleep, I get up and start trying all over again.

I’ve decided to rearrange some things on my vision board. Pivot. Pivoting is ok; giving up is not an option.

In three months, the clock starts and the countdown gets real. I’ll have 5 years to reach some major life goals. It’s kind of exciting yet scary at the same time.

I’m not even close, LMFAOBVFS. I haven’t landed an interview, and I’m nowhere close to being able to afford a beach house.

But my faith won’t allow me to give up, to settle. I can’t settle, cause even at 19, my son is still watching. I have to push, I have to thrive, I have to reach my goals.

So, what do I do. I’ll keep praying, meditating, filling out applications, and playing the Powerball when the jackpot hits 9 figures.

Might even burn some sage, get a ZZ plant, and hang a picture of Ganesha, cause, why not, right?

In three months. Forty fucking-five.

--A Word with Kai