Posted in adventure, aging, fitness, Goals, health, Life, random, Weight Loss, women

The Next 6 Months

So, it happened. I turned 44. So far, all I’ve done since I’ve been double 4’s is sleep and eat. I mean…I’ve been eating A LOT. And yesterday, I took three naps before I went to bed. That’s crazy. In between, when I was awake, I was pretty much eating. I haven’t had a day like yesterday in a very, very long time. All I can think is that I must’ve needed it.

But, as I was lying in bed last night (or maybe it was yesterday? I don’t know, it all kind of runs together) I had the distinct feeling that I was ready to start being healthier again. For the past five months…mmm…maybe longer, I have just not made a concentrated effort to care for my body. I haven’t been consistently doing…anything. I honestly don’t remember the last time I was consistent with my physical health, if EVER. And I mean, really, really putting in the effort. I haven’t wanted to do any of that stuff recently, and that’s fine. But I think I do now.

I was just wondering, though…what would change if I really tried for, say, six months? How different would my body look, how different would I feel, if I dedicated myself to my diet and exercise for that length of time?

Right now, I’m still mulling it over. I’m trying to figure out what that would mean, exactly, and how to get started. But I think I’m going to do it. So stay with me. Shit’s about to get weird.

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Posted in adventure, aging, fun, funny, health, humor, Life, Musings, People, random, women

I Am Going To Get Old

I mean, not to jinx myself or anything, but…it kind of looks that way. I’m not one of those people who never thought they’d make it to 30, as I’ve heard So. Many. People. Announce. Nope, although perhaps, considering my lifestyle over the years, that should have been more of a concern of mine. I took for granted that I would make it to 30, and 40, and onward, I guess…but I think I thought I would just feel young forever.

Not so much. As my 44th birthday approaches in just a few days, I gotta tell you…shit is catching up to me. I wake up in the morning, and it seems that just the simple act of sleeping now causes my body such distress. I lurch upward like Frankenstein after he’s been electrified into life, making the same moaning and groaning sounds. I set my feet on the floor with great care, never sure exactly how bad which things will hurt. This morning, for instance, my lower back feels as if I spent the whole day yesterday lifting heavy things the wrong way, except I didn’t. All I did was go to bed last night, sleep, and wake up.

For that matter, just sitting in the same position for too long can now cause pain. What the hell is that about? Yesterday, I was lounging on the couch with my knee bent for like five minutes too long, apparently, and when I went to shift around, it hurt! I had to do it slowly to keep the agony at bay. What is that? Is it natures way of telling me I need to move more? Because I really don’t want to, but if I must, I suppose I can make it happen. Grudgingly.

I recently spent upwards of a hundred bucks on a cream that would purportedly “firm” the “crepey” skin of my neck. In other words, I’m trying to diminish the signs of old lady neck. I think it might be working, a little, but let me tell you something- this shit smells like something you would use to lubricate a diesel engine. I am not joking when I tell you that the older you get, the more…intense the scents of your skincare regimen become. When I was in my 20’s, everything smelled like “Fresh Orange Bursts!” or “Grapefruit Sorbet!” or some such shit. We then moved on to “Clean scents” that smelled mildly floral or…I don’t know, the way you remember your mom smelling, I guess. That was fine. At my age? They don’t even bother trying to mask the chemical aroma of the heavy-duty crap that’s trying to salvage the very flesh of your face. I literally have a tube of Retinol cream that’s called- and I am not making this up- “Help Me!”. Its job is to burn the top layer of my face off every night because my skin is so old it has now forgotten how to regenerate itself. And that’s just one of FOUR things I slather on my face and neck every night.

Gravity is working overtime on every part of my body, which is fine on the parts of me that I am not showing the world- I mean, that’s what bras are for, right? But the only face bra I know of is plastic surgery, and that’s not happening. Also, my arms…oh, man, my arms. I love, love, love sleeveless blouses, but lately I’m not pulling them off like I used to.  And I know, I KNOW- if I could just find it within me to get back on my gym routine, this is a problem that would be easily remedied, but…this is my griping post, so get out of my face with your helpful suggestions. I am not in the mood.

Everywhere I go, I see old people. I mean, I work at a hospital, and I live in a town where the older population is astronomically higher than average, but Jesus. I see these elderly people, trudging down the street, clutching canes and moving so slow, and it just…it freaks me out! I mean, best case scenario, I get old. That’s the WIN. My options are- 1.) Die right now, which would be tragic, because I’m still technically young by death’s standards, or 2.) Get really old and slow and sad and grouchy because everything is hard, including breathing. Ugh, I don’t even know why I am thinking about it!

Every day of my life, I read peoples medical records- it’s okay, that’s what I do for a living. But I’ve come to realize that I am incredibly healthy. I don’t take any medications for anything, my blood pressure is perfect, my cholesterol is normal. My weight is a bit of a problem, but not by medical standards, just by mine, personally. This would be great if I had lived a mild type of life and took generally good care of myself over the years. It’s a fucking miracle if you consider that I spent a great portion of my life doing things that might have looked, to a moderately intelligent bystander, as if I were actively trying to kill myself. Not even slowly kill myself, but like, soon. Like, tomorrow maybe.

So, I’ve got it pretty good. I think, with a few small tweaks, I could probably sail through the rest of my 40’s with aplomb, and make it look good. But, you know, it’s going to require a bit more effort on my part than it did in my 30’s, that’s all. And a few more tubs of diesel lubricant neck cream. And maybe a new mattress, because the one I have now is going to put me in a wheel chair, I’m not kidding. Perhaps a few more glasses of water, and maybe a little more time exercising.

I’ll get started right after I take a tiny little nap. Or maybe tomorrow. Hahaha.

 

 

Posted in aging, Blogging, fun, funny, Life, Musings, People, random, women

I’m not 43, but my body is.

 

back pain

I don’t know if anyone ever really feels their age- I have this idea that all of us probably feel mentally younger than however old we are. Unless, of course, the person reading this is, say, 20. When I was 20 I thought I was sooo mature. (I wasn’t, but you couldn’t tell me that because I knew everything- including how it must feel to be mature, apparently). Anyway, my body just keeps on getting older, but sometimes it seems like my brain is getting less and less sure of things with the passage of time. Things I thought I knew for sure when I was younger, I question thoroughly now. Maybe this is a sign of maturity, now that I think about it- reexamining your beliefs and all that.

But, I mean…I spent like an hour howling with laughter over fart prank videos with my daughter the other day. If that gives you any idea at all about how mature I am. Also, on Friday (my daughters 21st birthday) we had a spontaneous dance party where I may have attempted to twerk. “Attempted” being the most important word in that sentence. I still can’t figure out how to do it!  I really don’t know why I need to, anyway, but it would be so satisfying if I just could, even once.

I’m getting off track here, though. The whole purpose of this post is to illustrate to you that my body is aging at a much faster rate than my mind is. Since I have been in my 40’s, I have had more back pain- for NO freaking reason- than I could even catalog for you. Like, just sleeping makes my back hurt. When I sit in one position for too long without moving, when I do try to move, that hurts. Recently, I stretched and tweaked my neck. For the next week, changing lanes while I was driving became a terrifying challenge, as I couldn’t really look behind me.

I don’t know for sure, but I’m pretty confident it was me lifting an unexpectedly heavy cooler full of ice and sodas for my boss on Friday that did it. Or maybe it was the attempted twerking. But I did something bad to my lower back on Friday. Normally, it’s the right lower side that hurts. This time it’s the left, but the right also hurts a little bit. I was kneeling on the floor Saturday morning, cleaning out the linen closet, and when it was time to stand up…I almost couldn’t do it. I literally panicked for a second, like, holy shit, is this really happening? With much groaning and wincing, as my lithe and limber young daughter stood over me, rolling her eyes and calling me dramatic, I was finally able to rise. This has happened, un-witnessed, several other times since then.

It happened this morning because I tried to get out of bed.

I mean, this is just embarrassing. Aging is bullshit. Am I going to have to actually avoid doing certain things because it might hurt?! I refuse. I’m going to lift weights or something, do yoga, whatever- anything I can do to preserve my body so that I can still change my own giant water jugs.

As soon as I can figure out how to get out of this damned chair.

Posted in adventure, aging, Dreams, fun, Goals, Life, Musings, People

It’s Time

live

In my head, there is an alternate reality, an entire life that contains all (most) of the same people that my actual life holds, with some pointed differences. In the life unfolding in my head, we do a lot more travelling. We do things that I am afraid of ( i.e., pretend to hate) such as camping- I can see myself and my daughter smiling around a campfire, looking up at the stars. In this alternate life, there are other differences, too. We are much better at togetherness, and I don’t mean laying in bed together while one of us watches season two of The Office (me), and the other one watches other people play video games on their tablet (her). I mean actual togetherness, laughing and eating waffle cones full of fresh churned ice cream at some food festival in Maine kind of togetherness.

In my imagined life, I am more organized, I am not such a freaking hoarder, the rooms in my home are neat and sensible, and I have tracked down the source of the moldy smell in the big bathroom and eradicated it. We get homework done without crying (that could be either of us on a bad day) and Cam reads to me without stubbornly insisting that she doesn’t know how, even though we both know she can read just fine when SHE feels like it. Or better yet, instead of pretending like she hates Harry Potter, she begs me to keep reading. In my other life, I always have extra blankets, nice ones, clean and folded neatly, in the linen closet. And I have a linen closet.

There is nothing wrong with the life I already have- as a matter of fact, it’s pretty great. But could it use some fine tuning? Um, yes. For the first time in memory, however, I already have all the main ingredients needed to make the leap from the actual-life-I-am-living to the-life-in-my-head. All I need to do is figure out the right measurements. Reduce the generous helping of pure laziness to maybe a pinch or two, and double the amount of effort and elbow grease. Buy some garbage bags, make a few trips to Goodwill to drop off the 17 pairs of “goal jeans” that, let’s be honest, if they ever do fit again, they aren’t even going to be in style anymore. I have an entire drawer filled with shirts that I dig through every day, and refuse to wear any of them. Why? What am I keeping them for, then?

For some reason, a truly clean house- like, every nook and cranny clean- plays a central role in my fantasy life. I have no idea what that has to do with food festivals in Maine or camping, but I guess it would make packing easier. It would definitely make coming home from a trip away more pleasant. In true ADHD fashion, though, cleaning properly is never a straightforward event for me. It involves a lot of half finished projects that stall out when I get distracted by something else that needs to be done, over and over, until I drop from exhaustion, leaving the house looking ten times worse than it did when I started. This is not an exaggeration, this has actually happened to me before.

But here is the thing- I KNOW there is a way to make this other life happen. I KNOW it. I can feel it in my bones, that I can have the life I want. I just need to keep taking steps towards it, every day, no matter what. There have been plenty of times when I got off work and wanted to veg on the couch and binge watch whatever thing I am currently into, but instead chose to push myself a little harder to get a few more things done…and it felt great! I need to choose to do that more often, instead of occasionally. It’s amazing, the amount of energy I find myself to have, compared to what I think I do.

My 20’s and 30’s were a blur…most of it, I wasted on self loathing and addiction, and the times when I actually had my act together, I was desperately trying to catch up, or to keep my family from going under. But there was always the sense that I had ample time to figure it out. I am 43 now, and although that is not old, there is definitely a feeling of “It’s time”. Time to pull it all the way together, or as much as I can. Time to take all of the trips and clean all of the closets, and generally figure shit out. Before my knees start protesting, and my back starts being really difficult, and my hormones jump ship, or whatever hormones do when they get old.

There is absolutely nothing standing in my way for once, except for me. And I refuse to be the reason my life falters anymore. I’ve done that for as long as I can remember, and it has never served me, not once. So I am going to challenge myself to try harder, dig deeper, and really start living the juiciest, most exciting, most awesome life ever. In a super clean house, naturally. Now excuse me, I need to go order some camping gear.

Posted in adventure, aging, Goals, Life, Musings, random

Happy New Year…to me :)

43

Today is my personal New Year, or, as some people like to call it, my birthday. I honestly do not have any idea why I still get all excited about this shit…I mean, I am 43 today. Who gets excited about getting another year older? Me, that’s who. I do. I just love my birthday, and I always have.

I even took the day off work. And, after I drop my little beauty queen off at school this morning, I am heading out to a neighboring town to have coffee with a girlfriend, then I am treating myself to a three hour spa treatment. That’s right, Three. Freaking. Hours. Two of which are massage, so…as you can see, I take this birthday stuff very seriously.

I think one of the reasons I like birthdays so much is because I love, love, love fresh starts. So starting a brand new year of life is way up there- I haven’t done anything yet to mar this fresh new cycle of my life. It’s better than Mondays and the first of every month, and it’s right up there with New Year’s Day but more personal…so, yeah, it’s pretty great.

I wish I had a bunch of goals all ready to announce, but I do not. I am still feeling a little weighed down by the massive pile of Mexican food I inhaled last night (dinner number two so far in celebration of “my” month, because I claim the entire stretch of May. Yep, I’m one of those assholes) so I can’t really think of anything big…

How about this: I would like to maintain all of my current happiness, and maybe even take it up a few notches. I would like everything to continue to get better. I would like to do all of the things I enjoy doing now, except more often. I would really like to figure out how to keep my house clean. I wouldn’t mind having sex at least once this year…or even once more before I die, for God’s sake. I would like my pets to stop ejecting fur all over my house as if their very lives depended on it. I would like to be the bright spot in the lives of people I love, who love me back. I just want to feel good most of the time. That’s it. I mean, besides becoming rich and author-style famous, which goes without saying, that’s really all I want.

Well, I better go shave my legs! I don’t want to feel weird about some stranger massaging my naked body while it’s slightly stubbly, you know. That would add a layer of awkwardness to an already strange situation that I am just not ready to deal with. Talk to you soon!

Posted in advice, aging, family, inner peace, kids, Learning, Life, living, love, motherhood, Musings, parenting, People, relationships

Letting Go of Old Resentments in Favor of Love:

God, it’s been so long since I have sat here and tried to write anything, that I almost don’t know where to start. I got stuck on the “Title” space for such a long time that I decided to just write first, and see if something came to me. In case you are curious, I will tell you that over the past two months, while I haven’t been writing, I have been doing a lot of work on myself. Trust me, there was plenty of stuff to work on, and plenty left to do…I’m not one to just leave myself be. Oh, if only I could. But that will never be me. Anyway, I thought about writing a lot, but I just didn’t have anything I wanted to say, here…then, the past few days, the urge started coming over me again. If you write, you know what I mean- little ideas start tickling the back of your mind. Nothing too pressing. Then, this morning came, and I knew it was time.

resentment

This morning, a friend of mine lost her father. He was in hospice, and so it wasn’t unexpected, but…she fell asleep beside him, holding his hand, and when she woke up, he was gone. She is devastated. Last week, a friend that I work with lost her mother. Like my other friend, she was there with her, right to the very end. We talked for a long time about it, and I told her that when I found out her mom had passed, I tried to imagine what it would be like to wake up in a world where my mother no longer resided- I really did this, at home, alone, trying to put myself in my friends place. Because, you know, I have never done that. No matter what kind of relationship I have with my mom- and it goes through phases- I have always had the assurance that she was there. I have taken that for granted every single day of my entire life. Imagine what it would feel like for that not to be true. Of course, if you have already lost one, or both, of your parents, you already know…but for the rest of us, it bears thinking about.

Now, think for a second about the resentments, big or small, that you carry around. Are they worth the price they will cost you if they are holding you back from fully loving someone that gave you life? This is a question I asked myself, and it may be worth asking yourself, as well. I am not saying that just because someone is your parent, anything they have done should be forgiven- I know there are horror stories of abandonment and abuse, and I am not talking about that. I am talking about things…well, I guess I am talking about the things that I have carried around, that hold ME back. I suppose what I am saying is that I have chosen not to love as fully as I could, maybe not consciously, because of my own resentments…things that belong in the past, to people who don’t really even exist anymore.

We grow up- children are not the only ones who grow up, who change. I certainly have, and I know my parents have, too. I want to love them with my WHOLE heart, and that is what I hope to do. Because they are still here, and I am a lucky daughter, indeed. I look at how strained my relationship is with my mom and dad at certain times (whether they know it or not) and I hope more than anything that my kids don’t ever have that kind of resentment or any of those kinds of feelings about me. But, boy, I have sure given them plenty of good material to use.

Here’s the thing- my parents are human beings, and human beings mess up. I know they had the best of intentions, like every one of us do, and they did stuff they regret anyway. I know this to be true, not just because I lived through it but because they’ve told me. With their own mouths, they have said to me:  “I wish I would have done things differently”. My mom has beat herself up for years over things she cannot change, decisions she made, that, at the time were the VERY BEST she could make from the options she had. And you know what? We are okay, anyway. My brother and I love her, we go to her with all of our stuff…but in my heart, I know I have held myself back. She can’t go back in time and change anything, anymore than I can go back and give my daughter a happy childhood with a mother who was not on drugs, not abrasive and full of rage. I can never, ever do that. But I hope she forgives me. I need forgiveness, too.

Today, I am letting go of that shit- those old resentments I have carried for far too long. I am going to love my parents fully, both of them, because they deserve it. They have loved and forgiven me for a lot of stuff- it’s time, for all of our sakes, that I leave the past in the past. I am so glad my mom and dad are still here, that I can pick up the phone and call them just to say “I love you.” And maybe this blog didn’t make a lot of sense to you, but my heart sure needed to puzzle this out. Thanks for reading- hope to see you again here, soon.

 

 

Posted in aging, fun, funny, humor, Learning, Life, motherhood, Musings, People, random

Thoughts on my former ass, and other things that no longer exist.

my former ass

Once upon a time, I was young. I was so young that I couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to be thirty, or have stretch marks, or empathy for other human beings. I was so young, I never had weird hairs growing out of my neck or my nipples, but if I had, my sharp young eagle eyes would have caught them before they were long enough to grab with my finger nails.

I miss being that young, sometimes, and not just because of the weird hairs or the funky pair of lines between my eyebrows that make me look angry even when I am not…I miss it because I miss the ignorant, self centered, shallow bliss of being the girl I was.

That girl didn’t even care how stupid she probably looked, always half crocked on something, running around, making a spectacle of herself. She didn’t even know she was an idiot. She thought she was cute all the time. That girl didn’t care about the taxes coming out of her paycheck,  or how stupid all the candidates running for president were. She didn’t get into long, useless, political arguments with her friends on Facebook. There was no Facebook. And it was good.

Even if I didn’t have a parenthood and job induced curfew, I would probably still go to bed before nine. Nothing exciting happens after nine- if my phone rings that late at night, I wonder a) who is drunk, and b) who died. That is what goes through my head when my phone rings after I am in bed. The twenty five year old me didn’t bother going out until after nine- NO ONE was out that early.

The young me didn’t worry about how I looked naked. I wanted people to see me naked. I looked that good. Now? I don’t even like to sneak up on myself naked. I wish I was kidding.

Eh, but who am I kidding? That girl was cute and all, but she was a bona fide mess. And most of the people I let see me naked didn’t even deserve to. Although, I’m glad there are references I can provide who can verify how awesome my ass used to be. Because I was trying to tell my trainer about it last night, and I could tell he didn’t believe me. If any of you have a picture of my former ass, can you send it to me? I need to show him.

Anyway, that is what I am thinking about right now. Aren’t you glad I shared it with you?