1. You no longer care what people think. You own your style, your flaws, your awesomeness. You ain’t got time for no janky nonsense.

2. There’s no guilt when turning down invites, saying no to things that don’t serve you and sending regrets. You know where you need to be and put yourself there; no GPS is required.

3. You know who your people are and let go of those who aren’t. Again, you ain’t got time for that stuff.

4. You are grateful for the things you have and no longer desire the things you don’t. Purge. Save. Choose wisely.

5. You can smell BS a mile away. Users don’t stand a chance. And energy suckers are toast. Bye bye, Felicia.

6. You know what you like when it comes to things like food, fashion, company, movies, music, bada-bing. And you aren’t afraid to ask for it. Ummm. Excuse me. Yep.

7. You no longer feel guilty when you can’t return a text, email, phone call because you accept the season you are in. Haters gonna hate. Lovers gonna keep lovin’.

8. You can go places alone without a hassle, like the grocery store, Target, doctor’s appointments, and hair salon. Your kids are old enough to stay home without a sitter, or they can wait in the lobby. Sit. Stay. Come.

9. No one needs you every second of every day, all day. And when you go places, your people carry their own stuff. You can dress cute again and take a handbag rather than a mom-bag. You pretty much own your FAB-U-LOUS-NESS.

10. You value your health but also don’t expect perfection. You exercise for well-being because booty shorts are not and should not be in your wheelhouse. Nothing beats a hot cup of coffee (or two). And you happily spend Saturdays with your kids because you have learned the days are long but the years are short.

Originally published on My Battle Call

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Valli Vida Gideons

I am a military bride, who writes about raising kids with cochlear implants, military life, and other things from the heart. Unrelated but not irrelevant... I have a degree in journalism and wrote my first short story in second grade about a walking/talking sponge; I've been an exercise instructor since my teen years (Flashdance sweatshirts, leg warmers and vinyl records to prove it); and may have been an extra on the vintage 90's hit, Beverly Hills 90210 (proof still found on VHS tapes). I got hypothermia in my first marathon at mile 25.5, but went on to kick butt the next six times I toed the line; I use to cut hair on Melrose Ave. in another life; and I am still besties with my two closest pals from elementary school, who encouraged me to share my story. This is my journey. I hope it provides a sliver of inspiration for anyone who is entering or in the midst of a fog. Follow my journey on Facebook and my blog!

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