The Someday Box

What turning sixty has done, however, is make me pause and take inventory.

Not in a sad way. Not in a "where did my life go" kind of way. More in a "holy crap, how did that happen so fast?" sort of way.

Because the truth is, when we're younger, we think we have all the time in the world.

I know I did.

When I was still living in Germany, there were so many places I wanted to visit. Germany itself has incredible history and beautiful places, but I also dreamed of exploring other parts of Europe. Castles, museums, little villages, big cities, adventures waiting around every corner. At the time, I didn't have the money or the means to do many of those things, so I did what most people do.

I put them into the Someday Box.

You know the one.

The place where dreams, hobbies, adventures, projects, and brilliant ideas go to collect dust while we wait for life to cooperate.

I'll do it later.

I'll do it when I have more money.

I'll do it when things calm down.

I'll do it when life gets easier.

I'll do it someday.

Then life happened.

I met Jeff. Moved halfway across the world. Built a life. Raised children. Navigated challenges. Celebrated victories. Collected stories. Collected wisdom. Collected enough titanium in my body to set off security systems for the foreseeable future.

And somewhere in the middle of all that, decades quietly slipped by.

Today I have no desire to move back to Germany. My life is here. My people are here. My adventures are here. But there are still things sitting in that old Someday Box that never happened. Not because they weren't important. Not because they weren't possible. Simply because someday kept getting pushed a little further down the road.

Funny how that works.

The thing is, it wasn't just travel.

It was books I wanted to read. 

Hobbies I wanted to learn. 

Projects I wanted to start. 

Experiences I wanted to have. 

Conversations I wanted to have. 

Risks I wanted to take.

Someday.

Such an innocent little word.

And yet it can be one of the biggest dream killers we ever invite into our lives.

Now, before anyone starts feeling sorry for me because there are things I can no longer do physically, please don't. This isn't a pity party. I don't even like those. The snacks are usually disappointing.

The reality is that my body has taught me some valuable lessons over the years. There are absolutely things I could have done thirty years ago that I cannot do today. That's simply true. But I've also learned that happiness has very little to do with perfect circumstances and a whole lot to do with perspective.

I've adapted.

I've modified.

I've learned new ways.

And honestly, some of my favorite adventures have happened after life stopped following my original plans.

Date night at Costco, anyone?

The biggest shift didn't happen because my circumstances changed. The biggest shift happened because I changed.

In 2018, I got the nudge to write a book.

Not a gentle little whisper.

More like the Universe grabbing me by the shoulders and saying, "Pay attention, woman."

The idea for Happiness Matters: Unleash Your Superpower in 7 Easy Steps showed up and refused to leave. Now, at the time, I had plenty of reasons not to write a book. I wasn't a writer. I had never written a book before. I didn't know anything about publishing. I had no idea whether anyone would even read it.

In other words, I had the same list of excuses most humans carry around.

But for whatever reason, I didn't put that dream into the Someday Box.

I sat down.

I wrote.

Three and a half months later, the book was published.

That one decision changed far more than I realized at the time.

Because something interesting happens when you stop waiting for permission. Something shifts when you stop asking whether you're qualified and start asking whether you're willing. Once I finished that first book, I realized I didn't need better circumstances. I didn't need more confidence. I didn't need somebody else to tell me I could do it.

I simply needed to begin.

Now, when a book feels like it wants to be born, I sit down and write.

The blog is another perfect example.

For years I talked about starting one. I even started one a couple of times. Then the voices showed up. You know the ones. The helpful little gremlins who live rent-free in our heads and spend their days offering terrible advice.

Nobody cares.

You're not a real writer.

Someone else already said it better.

Why bother?

And because I listened to those voices, I stopped.

Twice.

This year the nudge showed up again.

Only this time felt different.

I can't fully explain it.

Maybe it's all the inner work.

Maybe it's all the perspective shifts.

Maybe it's age.

Maybe it's wisdom.

Or maybe I'm simply running out of patience for my own nonsense.

Whatever it is, this time I listened.

This time I kept going.

And the beautiful thing is that someday didn't disappear.

It became today.

Now, almost every day feels like someday.

Not because life is perfect.

Not because everything magically fell into place.

Not because I suddenly became fearless.

Lord knows that's not true.

It's because I choose differently.

I follow the nudge.

I answer the call.

I start the project.

I write the book.

I make the phone call.

I say yes to the adventure.

I stop waiting for permission.

Do I still get scared?

Absolutely.

Do I still doubt myself sometimes?

Of course.

Usually before coffee.

Sometimes after coffee.

The difference is that fear no longer gets the final vote.

Because one of the greatest lessons I've learned through all the work I've done is that every moment contains a choice. Not necessarily a choice about what happens to us, but always a choice about what happens next. Most of us spend years running on autopilot. We surrender our power without even realizing it. We allow circumstances to determine how we think, how we feel, how we respond.

Been there.

Done that.

Bought the shirt.

Probably lost it.

But awareness changes things.

Once you see it, you can't unsee it.

You begin catching yourself faster. You notice the stories. You notice the excuses. You notice the fear. And suddenly there is space to make a different choice.

That choice changed my life.

And maybe that's why turning sixty doesn't bother me.

What bothers me is the thought of reaching the end of my life and realizing I spent too much of it waiting.

Waiting for better timing.

Waiting for certainty.

Waiting for permission.

Waiting for someday.

Life is too precious for that.

So if your heart has been nudging you toward something, maybe this is your reminder.

Take the class.

Write the book.

Plan the adventure.

Read the book gathering dust on your nightstand.

Reach out to the person you've been thinking about.

Say the thing.

Do the thing.

Try the thing.

Because someday isn't actually a day on the calendar.

It's a choice.

And today is available right now.

What about you?

What have you been saving for someday?

A trip?

A conversation?

A dream you've quietly tucked away because life got busy?

I'd love to hear about it in the comments.

One of the things I've learned over the years is that most of us don't need more information. We need more awareness. We need someone to help us notice the stories we're telling ourselves, the fears running in the background, and the places where we've accidentally handed our power away.

That's the work I do every day.

I help people become more present, more aware, and more intentional so they can stop living on autopilot and start making conscious choices that move them toward the life they actually want.

If you're feeling stuck, overwhelmed, or like you've been living in the Someday Box for far too long, I invite you to explore the different ways we can work together.

You can find them at Ways to Begin.

Because someday isn't a destination.

It's a decision.

And today is still available.

Shift happens...