When I was young, I had big plans for my life.
I was going to get married, have 2.5 children, live in a house with a white picket fence, a dog, and run my own advertising agency.
Life, however, had a different vision for me.
I did get married—and then divorced. I got the house, then lost the house in the divorce, had one of the planned 2.5 children, and adopted a small dog who humped everything that stood still long enough.
As for the white picket fence and the advertising agency, apparently they took a wrong turn and ended up in someone else's life.
Now, as I round the corner toward 63, I sometimes look around and think:
WTF? How did I get here?
This wasn't the picture I had in my head.
Let's just say my guardian angel developed a drinking problem somewhere along the way.
Lately, I've been feeling disappointed—not just about one particular thing, but about where I ended up in life.
My past is so far up my ass it can see daylight, and I'm having a hard time remembering where I put my reset button.
I'd blame my mother, but at almost 63, that seems a little ridiculous.
Convenient—but ridiculous.
In the middle of all this, Parker and I have been looking for our "perfect" home—maybe even a barn, since my father always thought that was where I belonged.
But as everyone knows, the housing market is so out of whack that the asking price is just a cute little suggestion.
Then, completely by accident, we found it.
Not just a house.
The house.
It was the house of my dreams—minus the picket fence, the 1.5 missing children, and the horny little dog.
For a few glorious minutes, I could see our entire future there.
There was only one small problem.
It was a tiny bit out of our price range.
We got back in the car, and my brain was going 100 miles an hour trying to figure out how I could come up with a few hundred thousand extra dollars without doing anything that would get me arrested and have my story reenacted on Dateline.
Apparently, "But I really love the kitchen" is not an acceptable mortgage qualification.
A day later, the realtor emailed us.
A bidding war had begun.
That was the moment I knew I couldn't make it happen.
No creative financing. No miracle. No mysterious rich relative appearing from nowhere and announcing, "Joey, you were always our favorite. Here's a million."
The house was gone before it was ever mine.
And that sent me straight down a massive emotional rabbit hole, armed with a giant magnifying glass and absolutely no adult supervision.
Once you start analyzing your entire life, every bad decision you've ever made pulls up a chair, orders coffee, and says, "Really? Were you on crack?"
I could have given myself an inspirational speech, written down five things I was grateful for, taken a walk, or meditated.
Instead, I decided I needed to suffer for every stupid mistake I had ever made.
Because that's productive. 😂
Eventually, after I had thoroughly examined every questionable decision since 1982, I asked myself why losing this house had hit me so hard.
And I realized it wasn't really about the house.
The house was simply the straw that broke my old, cranky back.
In that moment, I felt like maybe it was time to stop chasing the white picket fence and start waving the white flag.
And that scared me.
I'm not ready to give up. I just need to find my way back to hope.
Maybe a fresh start doesn't require a new address or a mortgage payment that would force me to survive entirely on ramen noodles.
Maybe the reset begins exactly where I am.
I can't change what happened. I can't undo my mistakes or recover every missed opportunity. And even if I could give my younger self the advice she desperately needed, she probably wouldn't listen anyway.
But I can decide what happens next.
I can keep creating.
I can keep dreaming.
I can keep trying—even when I feel disappointed, tired, and depleted.
That's why I created this Dolly Mama—to remind myself:
Anything is possible.
Maybe not immediately.
Maybe not exactly the way I imagined.
And definitely not before caffeine.
But as long as I'm still here, my story isn't finished.
Neither is yours.
So, for today, I'm going to stop putting my entire life on trial, make myself another cup of coffee, and leave a little room for hope.
Because anything is possible.
After coffee.
P.S. — If you need a little reminder too... 👉 Anything is Possible After Coffee long-sleeve tee
❤️
joey
