By Christopher Scott
I turned 44 today. Really the same as any age, but this year feels different. Different because I’m entering a new phase in life.
The transition started four years ago at 40. I was done. Done with work, done with people, just done. I finally said enough and retired from basically everything.
I became a recluse. Fortunate to be able to make a living playing cards and investing, I was finally able to live life on my own terms. I could speak my mind, choose my friends, and schedule my time as I saw fit, without any regard for political correctness or any worry I’d again be lied to, manipulated, or used.
It was refreshing. I was able to pursue activities and interests I was passionate about. I wrote three books, got into the best shape of my life, and offered my help to people I cared about. I even took up golf again after having abandoned my former career. Sure, it was a struggle at times, but overall, I was happy.
However, in the last year, restlessness set in. I needed more. More challenges, more passion, more stimulation. My novel writing phase complete and my poker playing career no longer as inspiring, it was time for a new challenge.
Fortunately, opportunities presented themselves as 2012 came to a close. First, I decided to not only publish my novels but also to let people know about my work. The response has been overwhelmingly positive, and I was surprised to have stumbled upon another potential source of income as well as another pursuit, promoting my books.
I also decided to reenter the business world. Having turned down several opportunities during the last few years, I was at last presented a chance to partner with someone honest, a person I could trust. The early returns spectacular, I expect this business to grow exponentially.
But even after capitalizing on these new ventures, there was something still missing. And I knew exactly what that something was.
I looked at the lives of my friends, people I knew in high school, in college, peers I know now. Certainly, some were happy, some not so much, but overwhelmingly, they had something I didn’t. Something that, despite all their other problems, invariably brought them happiness, understandably delivered fulfillment. Most of my friends had children.
Now for me, having children has never been the no-brainer it seems to be for most. I’ve always doubted my abilities as a father after a dysfunctional upbringing, and until now, it was probably best I didn’t have children. But, the last several years have opened my eyes to what a good father I’d be.
So I’m moving in a new direction. Where it leads, who knows. But, I’m done shutting myself off from new experiences. I’m finished protecting my broken heart.
This is 44, and it feels pretty good.