"If you remember anything of me after I leave this world, remember that I loved even when it was foolish. That I cared even when it was unwanted. When my body is gone remember my heart."

Something interesting happens when you finally allow yourself to name a life-changing plan—and then you say it out loud.

Not just quietly to a close friend. Not just as a passing thought. But publicly. On social media. Where it lands in the wide, unpredictable net of other people’s fears, hopes, projections, love, and unresolved questions.

Over the past few days, I’ve experienced the full spectrum of responses to my decision to move forward into a new chapter of my life. Some have been breathtakingly generous: We’re so proud of you. How can we help? This feels right for you. Follow your dreams. Those messages landed like warm hands on my back, steadying me.

Others came from a very different place: Rick, are you okay? Have you thought about therapy? People will scam you. You’re too old to fall in love. Please be careful. These messages weren’t cruel. In fact, many were rooted in concern. And I want to be very clear about this—I appreciate anyone who takes the time to reach out. Care wears many disguises.

What fascinates me is the contradiction.

We live in a culture that celebrates freedom, independence, self-determination, and authenticity. We encourage people to “live their truth,” “follow their heart,” and “choose their own path.” And yet, the moment someone actually does that—especially in a visible way—we often feel compelled to step in and correct the course. To warn. To caution. To protect. To diagnose.

I have to believe that sometimes we’re not responding to the person in front of us at all.
We’re responding to our own fears.

Our own unrealized dreams.
Our own risks we didn’t take.
Our own losses.
Our own stories about age, safety, love, money, and what is “reasonable.”

I respect that and I don’t take that personally.

What I do take personally—and seriously—is my responsibility to live my own life with intention, humility, curiosity, and awareness. This decision wasn’t impulsive. It wasn’t romanticized. It wasn’t made to escape anything. It was made by listening closely to what has been calling me for a very long time.

I am not asking for permission.
I am not asking for validation.
And I am not dismissing concern.

I am simply observing how revealing it is to watch the world respond when someone says, “This is the direction I’m going—and I’m doing it thoughtfully.”

And in that observation, I feel nothing but gratitude.

For the encouragement.
For the concern.
For the conversation.
For the reminder that caring comes in many forms.

And for the quiet inner voice that finally said, It’s okay to trust yourself.

"It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine."

*****************************************

If you enjoyed this entry, please bookmark and share… and see my artwork at www.RickLongArt.com and visit the Yellow Shoe Diaries at https://www.ricklongart.com/the-yellow-shoe-diaries