Posted in aging, faith, happiness, inner peace, Life, love, Musings, People, relationships, women

Love

love

August 28th, 2017 was the worst day of my life so far. It was the day I found out that the man who stole my heart 22 years earlier had been killed in a motorcycle crash the night before. I took the next two days off of work, and cried harder and longer than I have ever cried before in my life.

Now, lest you get the wrong idea, I want to be very clear here- he and I hadn’t been together for 22 years. If you strung together all of the days we spent together, through the years, it might equal two years, maybe three. But I feel like I thought about him every day. Whether or not that is actually true, I can’t say for sure. But it feels like it is true.

I have a peculiar glitch in my system, I think. When I let someone into my heart for real, there is no backing out. Once I love you, I love you always. It doesn’t matter what transpires, or how our paths might diverge. My heart is loyal to a fault, even when my actions and words are not.

But when I was 20, I fell in love with this man, and I loved him exactly the way a 20 year old girl would- in a crazy, hopeless way. And I am so glad I did. I am so glad I got to experience that kind of love. Over the years, I learned from those feelings the way love can evolve and become something else. Friendship and deep, deep affection. It wasn’t the same at the end, but in some ways it was better, you know? I got to experience this whole spectrum of love with him, and it has never stopped. I love him, still. He might not be here in person to tell it to, but I haven’t stopped talking to him, I haven’t stopped the conversation. Death is no barrier to love, I know that now.

In my last relationship, I learned even more about love- things I didn’t necessarily want to know, but have been valuable lessons just the same. I learned that love is not, in fact, all you need. You need other things, too- things like trust, respect, communication. Without those things, all the love in the world cannot save you. I learned that you can love someone with all your heart and hate the things they have done, and it is a struggle to grasp how this person could be capable of these things. I learned that heartbreak can change you, perhaps for good, and at the very least for a long time. Most importantly, I learned to be careful who I gave my heart to, because I do, indeed, have a particular glitch that makes my love permanent, and the repercussions of that are many.

And now, here I am, doing it again. Right now it’s little baby love, or maybe a precursor to love, and it is…lots of things. Thrilling. Scary. Awesome. Beautiful. Exciting. Worrisome. All of the things. I haven’t talked about it yet. I am old enough to know that time will tell, and that there is no harm in seeing how things unfold. But I love being fully present for all of the unfolding. I love the changes in me that allow me to be grateful and aware of the good things that are being dropped, one by one, like little gifts, into my life. I love having someone to turn to who is also turning towards me. I am on this new, unexpected journey, and I am just along for the ride. I have never done things this way before. It is good.

The thing I love most of all, though, is learning once again of my heart’s capacity to love. No matter how broken or battered it has been, eventually, it is ready to try again. It has room for one more. I can let someone else in, and never lose the ones that are already there. My heart is amazing. My ability to love is amazing. I may not be an expert, but I know a thing or two. And I am learning new things all the time.

In my heart of hearts, I believe that love is the reason we are on this earth. Learning how to love one another, how to treat one another, how to exist in a loving way with all the souls we travel with. I see how my ability to love and be loved has evolved, and I think I am getting better at it. I hope I am. Only time will tell. For now, I am content to continue figuring it out, knowing, as I do now, that I can survive whatever comes. If I survived through August 28th, 2017…I can can make it through anything.

I miss you, Joe. Can’t wait to see you again someday.

Advertisements
Posted in adventure, advice, aging, happiness, Learning, Life, Musings, People, women

The Best Part

the best part

There’s this funny misconception about aging that has infiltrated basically every nook and cranny of our consciousness. I mean, it is pervasive. I see posts all the time in different groups I am in, women who are paralyzed with fear because “I’m already THIRTY and I’m still single!” or “I’m 27 and I still have no idea what I am doing with my life!”

Yes, I know- it’s weird to me, too. But in all fairness, most of us have been conditioned to believe that there is a formula of sorts to follow- a path we should take, reaching certain milestones along the way: 18, graduate high school, attend college. By 24 or 25, nail down a career, maybe settle down with someone. 27-29, we are thinking about marriage, children, all that jazz. Our 30’s are devoted to what? Saving, buying a house, raising kids, building our empire, investing in…whatever people invest in, I don’t know.

I don’t know because I didn’t do ANY of this shit. I did graduate from high school, albeit in a somewhat roundabout fashion. I basically dropped out somewhere along my sophomore year (laws were less restrictive then, and I had way too little supervision, quite frankly) and went back towards the end of my senior year to adult school, plus took the GED for high school credit. I am proud to say I got the highest score on my GED that they had ever had at that time, and I was 100% stoned out of my mind when I took it. So that was surprising. I didn’t get to walk with my class, but that was okay since I didn’t technically have a particular “class” to walk with. I spent nine months at one school and maybe four at another, so I didn’t exactly form life-long friendships. I have never been invited to a reunion, which is kind of sad, though.

Immediately after high school, I enrolled in community college, went twice, then sold all my books back for beer money and dropped out. At 24, I was one of the only one of my friends with a kid (she was two) and the thought of a career never entered my mind. By 29, the only thing I was thinking about was the fact that I was making really poor life choices and maybe I needed to figure out how to be less gross. What I’m trying to say is that I made some impressively bad decisions, followed absolutely no kind of path at all- unless you consider the equivalent of running blindfolded and naked through a forest a “path”, and you know what?

I still turned out pretty great. Yeah, I suffered a bit more than average, and yes, most of it was ultimately at my own hand. Sure, I had moments where I felt woefully behind, and definitely heard my share of “spinster” and “cat lady” jokes. But in all honesty, I have had a freaking incredible life. Even the shitty parts. My life has not been boring. I have LIVED it. Every stupid thing I did, every bad relationship, every relapse and stumble and heartache, gave me something invaluable: Wisdom.

At 44 years old, I have weathered a lot of stuff, and that stuff made me smart. But I didn’t just go through stuff and do nothing with the pain- as many of you know, I got help. I went to rehab (twice), I devoted myself to recovery and did ALL the stepwork. I might not be in recovery anymore, but I still learned so much about myself and how I wanted to show up in the world because of it. I went to therapy- I STILL go to therapy and probably always will. I learned about meditation, about diet and exercise, parenting and running a household like a responsible adult. Learning how to run your own life well is honestly a lot of fun.

There have been many times when my friends have sought me out for advice, and I love nothing more than getting to mull over an issue with them. Perhaps I am not the one to come to if you want sugar-coated bullshit, but if you want the truth, I will try to find a nice way to give it to you. Honestly? I really enjoy getting to share my hard-earned knowledge with someone who is ready to hear it. Not only does it make me feel like maybe I am helping, but it also makes me feel grateful for the things I have learned along the way.

When someone asks how they can get their boyfriend into recovery, I can tell them point blank “YOU can’t. Only he can do that for himself. Don’t take that shit on, because if you start now, you are going to get mighty resentful real quick.”

Yesterday, a girl I do not know posted something anonymously saying she was sure her boyfriend was up to no good- he basically slept with his phone in his pocket and never let it out of his sight. She went on to say he’d cheated in the past, etc., etc. Everyone who answered her seemed to be giving her tips on how to play detective, how to find out what was up.

Dude.

She hadn’t even tried talking to him about it honestly.

Lord have mercy. I told her to think about the bigger picture! This was her one precious life! Is this how she wanted to spend it, sneaking around, trying to gather information on a person she didn’t even trust? How would that benefit her in the long run? In my opinion, even confronting someone you don’t trust is a waste of time because you aren’t going to believe anything they tell you. At that point, it’s really already over. Yeah, with lots of work from both sides, you might have something salvageable. Maybe. But is “salvageable” really the way we want to describe our love lives? Ehh…I don’t know about you, but that’s not the stuff for me.

Wanna know how I arrived at this conclusion? Scroll back through my blogs to the very beginning, I’m sure you’ll find something. But if you can’t, I’ll just tell you- I lived it. I was that girl. And it sucked, it hurt, it drove me insane. I lived through it, I learned from it, and I am healed now. It took a long time.

Here’s the thing- I would not trade the experience I’ve gained for anything. My life was a colossal mess. Sometimes it was so bad, it hurt so much, that I didn’t think I could survive it. I didn’t follow the rules. I messed up a lot. I’ve still never been married or bought a house or even finished college. But I’m happy, and I’m secure, and I know myself. Once upon a time, the thought of relying on myself terrified me. Not anymore. The idea that I can depend on myself today is empowering and reassuring.

At 44, I like myself more than I ever have. I think this might be the very best part of my life so far. I am truly grateful for everything that shaped me into the woman I am today. And that really is the best part of all.

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.

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!