The Art of Checking In With Yourself
For 20 years, my wife was my reality check. Now I have to be my own mirror.
The Thoughts We Rarely Admit
For 20 years, my wife was my reality check. Now I have to be my own mirror.
Twenty years in Japan, a 567-day Duolingo streak, and I still panic at the tax office.
By most standards, I failed. Living paycheque to paycheque at 57. But I don’t feel like one.
I caught myself rushing through my morning walk, already calculating when I could be productive.
We ruin good moments by saying “that was nice, but…” and immediately worrying about tomorrow.
Inside, we’re all young souls looking through older eyes. The wrinkles are just the mask.
After five hours digging sweet potatoes, I went straight to the computer. It’s not discipline – it’s a pull.
My mum never fed the dog from the table. That small moment was when I knew something was wrong.
The urge to rush is easing. And honestly, that second trip to 7-Eleven was worth it.