Forty-ish?

Last month I optimistically wrote about embracing my wrinkles.  I really don't mind getting older. I've lived. I've grown. I've learned. So I decided I would wholeheartedly embrace aging. Really, I figured it was just a state of mind.

Maybe. 

Today I received another angle. I went for a physical. A routine pap to be more precise. And that is all I thought it would be. 

But I felt progressively older as each topic was addressed. Each age appropriate topic.

Do you plan on having more children? You are getting to the age where conceiving gets more difficult and the risks increase.

Have you thought about whether or not you would like a mammogram. The recommended age has changed from forty up to fifty but it is a consideration at forty for those with a family history. 

We even touched on permanent birth control measures and what may eventually happen with menopause. (Yes, I know that may seem premature but I was asking about postpartum issues and how they relate to aging.)

Oh my.

Watching the abundant energy of my four year old makes it very clear that there are differences between the young and the... older. She can bounce on the trampoline, bike across town, go for a swim, and then still ask for a play date. 

I do what I can to try keep myself healthy so I can keep up. I try to eat plenty of vegetables. Get some exercise. Manage my stress. Get enough rest. Um, okay, maybe not everything. Sleep? Do I really need that? Maybe after my "forty year old" doctors appointment I will put that into consideration. 

As my daughter gets older (and stronger) I want to manage the stamina needed to join her in things that interest her. Toss a football, mom? Sure. Go for a run? I'd love to. Bike a trail? Great!

I don't want her to think I'm too old. But just embracing aging and loving who I am is not going to cut it. I need to treat myself well. Make sure I have some take-care-of-me time. 

Sometimes easier said than done. Especially if I try to consider that always evasive thing called sleep. I catch up on so much during the late hours. It's hard to balance healthy meals, exercise, school, extra-curricular, work, church, family play time, reading, and, ugh, house work. Well, maybe not that. I'm quite good at taking a whole day for my daughter and neglecting the chores. I wash the bathrooms and do the dishes and then, well, on to something else. 

Oh, the balance. But I want my daughter to remember many things. Not just mommy cleaned. Or mommy loved daddy. Or the important mommy played with me. 

I want her to learn from my example. I am aging. And she should see that I'm taking the right steps to make the most of it. I'm embracing my wrinkles. Im rolling with the grey hairs. I'm choosing the fruit over the ice cream. I'm eating three meals and snacks even when I'm busy. I'm stretching. I'm learning new things to keep my mind going. I'm developing my hobbies. I'm keeping relationships a priority.

I'm thoroughly enjoying life but being aware of my limits. 

And soon (-ish), with that family history, I guess I'll get that dreaded mammogram. 

Embrace My Wrinkles

I will embrace my wrinkles. They are a blessing. 

They mean I have experienced the glorious outdoors. I am so fortunate to live in a beautiful place surrounded by numerous lakes, mountains, and forests to explore. My back yard is the very place others dream about and save up to visit. 

They mean that I have laughed. After struggling with debilitating shyness and anxiety for the first two decades of my life, I now know what it feels like to both believe true joy does not exist, and then to believe that joy is never proportionate to positive circumstance. Joy can be experienced, in abundance actually,  throughout the stressful uncertainty and lack of control in daily life.

They mean that I have worked hard. I have faced battles head on instead of giving up. I've accomplished more than I ever thought possible. I've overcome shyness, fear, abuse, rape, anorexia, alcoholism, and more and created a satisfying life in spite of where I came from. 

They mean that I have felt deeply. I have discovered the love that makes you care for others and want the best for them, even when you can't do anything about it. I have felt a mix of emotions, from the encompassing love for my own offspring,  to the unexpected empathy for complete strangers.

They mean I've had the unrivalled gift of aging. My family did not have to mourn the outcome of my leukemia diagnoses eleven and a half years ago. Instead, my family gained another member through me as I experienced the miracle of giving birth to a daughter after cancer. 

I will embrace my wrinkles.

Because if I do not I am going to waste time worrying, covering, hiding, reminiscing, and spending money, and not experiencing the freedom of loving who I am and where I am in the timeline of my unique life. 

I will embrace my wrinkles. 

Even if you don't. I have dear friends who are 20 years younger and who are 20 years older than myself. Age is only a number and everyone has something individual to offer. If you find my aging appearance hinders getting to know me, that is your own loss.

It should not result in a loss anywhere, at anytime. Ever. Because if we all embraced our wrinkles, then they would not be seen as a hindrance or embarrassment. 

They would be a blessing.

Door Number Ten

I opened door number one and saw all the undesirable housework that demanded to be done. And hadn't been done the last ten times I opened this door. 

I opened door number two and saw my precious daughter sleeping soundly. I longed to cuddle next to her, for I didn't know how many more times I would get a chance to be that close to someone who once felt like an inseparable extension of me but now was becoming her own autonomous entity that had a mind as imaginative and untameable as my own.

I opened door number three and heard the music calling me to sing loudly and freely with no inhibition. Song after song begged to resonate out of me. 

I opened door number four and saw the pencil and the paper. Exploring faces, loved ones, in a moment in time. Bringing them to life to share with others in a way I never could if I did not enter that door. 

I opened door number five and saw the words in my mind recklessly flowing in all directions, looking for some comprehensible connection that would bring them freedom. They called me to write them down and permit them to purposefully become. 

I opened door number six and saw the beckon of a welcoming book. A story that reminded me there were lives glaringly stranger than mine. Sorrows dreadfully deeper. Opportunities better grasped. Secrets more hidden. 

I opened door number seven and my mind longed to aimlessly calculate. Finding numbers on autopilot as its thoughts actively wandered but had no mandate to commit.

I opened door number eight and felt the exhilaration of running and heard my heart pounding methodically like my feet hitting the pavement. 

I opened door number nine and felt my spirit long to embrace unconditional love. To bask in humble thankfulness for all I am able to experience and to supplicate for all that is to come.

But...

I entered door number ten and lazily sat wasting my time flipping from one internet page to the next curiously looking at topics I would not rightfully give priority to at the end of another busy day.   

Sometimes Life

Sometimes life means realizing you've made an error and determining that the mistake won't be made again, and ending up consciously walking straight down the same inglorious path. 

Sometimes life means setting priorities and standards that resolutely must be met, and acquiescing in walking away from them temporarily.

Sometimes life means judging the motives of the inconceivable mistakes of others, and finding yourself in the same deplorable circumstances. 

Sometimes life means having a set schedule and following a solid plan, and somehow turning down an antithetic road.

Sometimes life means holding back how you really feel and taciturnly keeping emotions in check, and watching it all burst from the seems exposing your true heart. 

Sometimes life means confidently declaring your views and being strong in your convictions, and receiving an epiphany on the other side and humbly having to apologize. 

Sometimes life means letting go of the certain good in search of the promised better, and diffidently wondering if the good had actually been the best.

Sometimes life means expectantly taking a chance that you cannot afford, and learning how to apologetically scrounge for the pieces that are left.

Sometimes life means searching for souls who will know you as deeply as you desire to be known, and having to jump over your own foggy-eyeglass perceptions of those who are already within your reach.

Sometimes life means exhaustingly wanting to be it all and hold it all together, and eventually finding contentment in honestly letting it go.

Sometimes life means having faith in a path that leads to an unknown destination, and being grateful you listened to your heart instead of reason.

Sometimes life means trying hard to make yourself into the person you imagine you are meant to become, and finding who you really are when surrendering your preconceived labels for a successful you.