In the middle of a hormonally challenged day, I read my horoscope -- as usual urging someone, not me, to go ahead and take the leap, assume the risk, close your eyes and jump. Or else you'll regret it.
It is with some surprise -- after a tough, tough, tough decade -- that I realize at this moment that I could die tomorrow and it would be without regret. Not that the dying part is integral to my plans, but you get my meaning.
I have changed everything in my existence from what it was ten years ago.
Different love, different work, different self. Or maybe now the real self.
Not to say I don't have moments of concentrated terror, and moments in which I feel sulkily and unrealistically undervalued ... but even these bad mood moments are vastly different from what I experienced at the beginning of my midlife crisis.
Oh, was that what it was?
I just know now that I understand Edith Piaf: je ne regrette rien.