At 23, I wish I had taken a gym membership instead of a boyfriend.
Then I’d have been sore but for right reasons.
At 24, I wish I had quit that job that made me feel dead inside.
Then I wouldn’t have to go through one more healing process.
At 25, I wish I had trusted a therapist and not old monk.
Then I would have come to my senses just a little sooner.
At 26, I wish I had focused more on my career and not just on work.
Then I would have done the things I am doing now. A headstart of a sort.
At 27, I wish I had read more, worked on self-care and been more ambitious.
Then I would have dreamed and maybe worked on it too.
At 28, I wish I had let go of the status quo.
What was I even thinking?
At 29, I should’ve invested in myself.
But I felt like I was sinking. All. The. Time.
At 30, I did make some progress but I could have done a lot of the above that I didn’t.
Same at 31 and 32 and 33 and wow it’s all blur now.
I am glad I am getting a hold of it at 36.
Because the best time to start something is when you start it.
