Recently, I found myself at the park wearing a pair of old sneakers that I had almost forgotten about. These black canvas shoes, which my friend Amanda affectionately dubbed my “rebel shoes,” are far from supportive, yet they have a charm that I can’t resist. They embody a youthful spirit, a sense of fun, and a carefree vibe. They represent the kind of life I aspire to live—simple, unpretentious, and free of stress.
However, after a day of running around in those sneakers, my shins are crying out for mercy. I even took a few extra-strength pain relievers, probably one too many. But oh, the fun we had! We dashed back and forth from the “little kid area” to the “big kid zone,” with my daughter straddling that delightful space between.
In those shoes, I kept pace with her as she conquered the rock wall, crossed the wobbly bridge, and slid down what she calls the “big, beautiful tunnel.” With each adventure, I pushed my fears aside—my claustrophobia didn’t stop me from following her down that slide, and my fear of heights was silenced as I climbed to the top of the jungle gym. Those sneakers somehow transported me back to my younger self and the mother I always dreamed of becoming.
I moved with a newfound energy, as if those sneakers demanded that I embrace every moment. They’re the kind of shoes that kids wear, and even though I’m nearing my 50s, they ignited my inner child.
Now, I find myself contemplating a change in my hairstyle, and the phrase that keeps popping up is: “I love ____, but I’m too old for that.” Whether it’s pastel pink, a striking lavender gray, or bold dark auburn, I tend to second-guess my choices. Before I know it, browsing hairstyles online feels like an existential crisis. Despite my evolution, my hair seems stuck in a rut.
I try to channel my courage and confidence, steering clear of overthinking what it means to sport vibrant hair or quirky accessories. I don’t want to feel constrained by the notion of being an almost 50-year-old mom with a toddler, enjoying life in my mismatched sneakers while other mothers with their conventional hair colors look on.
I also don’t want to feel like I’m too old to pursue the dreams I’ve cherished—whether that’s being a dedicated mom or finally stepping into the role of an author.
I’m the one writing my story now. This includes rocking those unsuitable sneakers, even if my shins remind me of my folly the next day. I’m ready to add some wild color to my hair soon. No more overthinking what brings me joy. I’m ready to embrace it fully.
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In summary, it’s time to stop overthinking and start living authentically. Embrace what makes you happy, whether it’s your footwear, hair color, or personal ambitions. Life is too short for hesitation.
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