I don’t remember who first suggested that I use Goodreads, but it was likely someone who’d noticed the sticky notes posted all over my house and let me know there was a tidier, less invasive way to keep track of books I wanted to read. To the person who pointed me to Goodreads: thank you. It’s such a helpful tool, allowing me to remember not only books that have been recommended to me, but also those I’ve read and how I felt about them.

When I was younger, I followed a self-imposed rule to finish every book I started. It wasn’t until I hit my 30s that I allowed myself to stop reading an occasional book I wasn’t enjoying, although I continued to power through several stinkers. Now, at 50, I do no powering through when it comes to reading. While I still have that little voice in the back of my mind asking, “Don’t you want to see how it ends?” I now have a stronger inner voice that emphatically answers, “No. I don’t like these characters. I don’t care what happens to them. And the writing style is like nails down the chalkboard of my soul.” Then, with a sigh of relief, I close the book, return it to the library, and try another.

In concurrence with my new attitude, Goodreads has added a “did not finish” option for users. Before this, everything in the “My Books” queue had to be categorized as either “want to read,” “currently reading,” or “read.” Goodreads added the new feature last month, and I’ve already used it twice.

As I age, I’ve begun granting myself permission to stop doing all sorts of things, beyond the forced completion of crappy books. I’ve listed some of them below, and just for fun, I’ve accompanied each with an image of a fierce protector statue, found and photographed during a recent trip to Japan, and, for the sake of this post, symbolizing my strength of will to stop doing stuff that’s not in my best interest.

First off, I’m permitting myself to abandon the quest for perfection. I do my best, and that’s enough. Others may not think so, but that’s on them. Plus, there’s true liberation in saying, “Wow, I really screwed that one up!” and simply moving on, sans perseveration. Humans aren’t perfect. We’re not circles. We’re weird and inelegant and all over the place, and that’s okay.

Also, I’m not stressing out about physical signs of aging. My hair is white, there are lines on my face, and six dots resembling Ursa Major have appeared on the back of my right hand. In fact, my whole back and stomach now look like pages in a connect-the-dots book. But whatever. Aging is a privilege. Wrinkles and spots are just part of the deal.

I’ve also authorized myself not to play nice when people are being annoying. For example, if someone in my vicinity launches into an unprompted, unrequested lecture, especially if said lecture begins with the word “actually,” I give myself permission to turn around and walk away. Later, dude. Nobody asked you. Also, if someone tells a stupid, thoughtless “joke,” I don’t respond with silence or a nervous laugh. I say, “Oh, was that a joke? Could you explain it to me?” and then bask in the awkwardness.

Finally, I let myself avoid over or repetitive exposure to the news, as there’s a difference between staying informed and engaging in media-based self-flagellation. I also, as a rule, stay out of the comments, unless someone specifically tells me to read the comments, because then I get to have a “look how clever and silly and funny people can be” moment, and those are gold.

In general, as I continue to age, I grant myself permission to embody the message written on this sign, which was displayed outside an overgrown garden on Japan’s Nakasendo Trail:

Except mine would say: “Approach at your own risk. My ability to give a shit flowed away with my estrogen. I have no responsibility for your disappoint, or for the kind of day you have.”

In conclusion, check out this cutie patootie:

[I’ve also given myself permission, as you may have noticed, not to stress over clever endings. At least when it comes to blog posts.]