I turned 45 last week and it was one of the happiest weeks I can remember. I'm not saying this to brag, to say that I've got the age thing conquered. I have good days and bad days with it, and when I have my bad days I do my best to laugh at myself and remember that I'm pretty much the same girl I was when I was five and heading off to kindergarten, and that my grandfather who is now 87 and struggling with great pain and congestive heart failure (he's in hospice care with my parents) is as well.

No, the joy wasn't so much for the birthday (though it was fun), but just because. I have all of the same money worries I had last year (don't most of us?), the same possible challenge with headaches, but I'm also in a place of flow with work, realizing a new client is going to be really fun to work with, and inching forward slowly with my own writing.

I'm in the middle of reorganizing and cleaning up my studio, moving around furniture, dusting, and sorting through a myriad of piles of stuff that until recently I just didn't have the energy to deal with. So right now, of course, though I can see the floor more than before, it's an even bigger mess than previously.

But it's all good, I'm ready for something new. I'm open to physically experiencing more again, after living mostly in my head, and I've hit a place of flow (after spending six months feeling mentally good but physically lousy - amazing what a difference good sleep can make!) that is fascinating.

And of course I'm pondering love, and now not only love for friends and family (which has been so precious for me of late), but also romantic love too, or at least right now romantic "like" or "curiosity," that delicious, "gosh, maybe?" that rears its head so suddenly and surprises you while you were paying attention to something else.

Which has me contemplating my love list. I've tried to be formal about it. I've tried Martha Beck's recommendation of writing out 100 things (she's Oprah's life coach writer for "O" and one of my favorites), but it's something I have to do in fits and starts and things occur to me. Trust me, it's not easy to do if you step back from the physical surface attributes of an ideal someone who might thrill you (though of course I'm still pretty darn sure gazing at Jude Law can't be hard to do), and instead focus on how you'd like to feel in the presence of that special someone - whether you're in the middle of grocery shopping or in the middle of making love.

But I'm pondering it afresh this weekend, mulling it over and savoring it the possibilities.

A friend commented to me recently, "you seem so busy." He was referring to all of the blogs I write (I think I'm at six), and how often I update my status on facebook, and the events I'm involved with, and the new client I'm working on, and I had to laugh because as a teacher and father of two small girls I certainly feel he's busier than I am. My time is often spoken for, but not tightly regimented.

And I realize I really like it this way. I've found a schedule that seems to really be working for me, and my creativity. Sure I can get cabin fever at times, sure I can check my email box a few too many times when I'm not feeling inspired, but for the most part it feels really good. And that's what's important to me more and more - how my life feels.

I'm one of those people who can be extremely extroverted, flirty, open, gregarious and engaging but it'll wear me out. I need my alone time, my reflecting time, my own space to create and put words on the page.

I realize now that even though I also worked at home when I was in business with my ex-husband, and I enjoyed it, I still hadn't found the right groove for me. I am a died in the wool workaholic and I pushed myself past physical and mental exhaustion.

I think I'm finally getting better at pacing myself, and I'm finally starting to really own how much energy goes into being an idea person, a creative type. In the past I've always thought of it as a wonderful blessing, but just an added bonus - not something that was in itself a special gift to be treated with respect and nurtured. Actually, I feel silly admitting this but nurture was one of those words that used to make my skin crawl, probably because it's something I just didn't allow for myself much at all.

Yesterday and today were funk days, just gloomy and blue and weird (though I'm feeling better now). I've been riding high of late, feeling really good, but getting a bit over excited and wound up about a new client, and a possible new client, and then I needed to let go of a bit of a projection I'd let myself get into on a personal level.

Oh it's just so easy to do when you like someone so very much, when they spark your mind and your curiosiety even when you don't know what the heck it could be.

I'm sure I was well overdue for a bit of down time. Of course it never feels good when a funk comes along (especially when you're not sure if you might be coming down with the flu), but I'm learning to ride them out with more grace these days, and I'm learning that allowing the feelings, the anger, the sadness, the whatever uncomfortable that feels like bubbling up reminds me that I'm fully human and fully here. Also, in a strange way the darkness reminds me that I'm capable of reaching for and allowing more light.

And I'm not really one of those people who wants to rush from one high to the next, whether it's physical or emotional. I love being happy, I do, but I'm only half an extrovert so I need plenty of down time to ponder, and mull, and contemplate. The dark is no fun when I'm sitting in it, but I'm learning that if I just hang with it with open mindedness, and realize I'm certainly not the only one who feels this way, it seems to pass much more quickly.