Unapologetically Me

He turned thirty-five last Sunday
In his hair he found some gray
But he still ain't changed his lifestyle
He likes it better the old way
So he grows a little garden in the back yard by the fence
He's consuming what he's growing nowadays in self defense
He get's out there in the twilight zone
Sometimes when it just don't make no sense

He's an old hippie and he don't know what to do
Should he hang on to the old
Should he grab on to the new
He's an old hippie...his new life is just a bust
He ain't trying to change nobody
He's just trying real hard to adjust

"Old Hippie" - The Bellamy Brothers

I'm baaaaaack! (Use your inner Poltergeist voice. Heather O'Rourke, RIP.) Thank you so much for not chastising me too much for my one week sabbatical. Things that happened in one scant week (including but not limited to)...the first ever Moon family vacay, 3 cumulative days of reading 2 books (Ms. Nell's "Go Set A Watchman" AND the new Sue Monk Kidd book, "The Invention of Wings") Both were amazing - more to come on that later. Lastly, I partook of my 30 YEAR HIGH SCHOOL REUNION! Say it ain't so! This got me to thinkin'....30 years? Ouch. But a good ouch. So, today let's explore something going on in my life that's typically a make or break point for a whole lot of us. Age. It's inevitable, but not for the faint of heart. I'm reaching out my literary hand to you. Take it. Let's walk, shall we? 

The day I turned 45 (over 3 years ago >gag<), I went to work like any typical day. I listened to an audio book on the way (it was a looooong commute). I probably stopped for a Mickey D's coffee. I'm almost certain I drove barefooted. I seem to recall that my "work daughters" decorated my desk with balloons and tiny metallic 4's and 5's. It was a great day! Until I opened my work email. What to my wondering eyes should appear? Why, just an email from AARP. Association of American RETIRED Persons!???? Good ole' AARP wanted me to know that they were there for me should I need information on aging related services in my area...or life insurance. Oh, but wait, there's more. Directly underneath that email was another jewel. THE SCOOTER STORE was just wondering if I were still mobile. Perhaps I needed some assistance in that area? Just as I was recovering from the initial email shock, my mom called me. She sang happy birthday to me, told me she loved me, told me I was fabulous, told me I was her favorite child. I reminded her that I was her only child, but the sentiment still warmed my heart. Then she said some chilling words. "You know, the senior citizen center where I work just lowered the age for their softball team to 45. You could play." I couldn't breathe. My skin was clammy. My heart palpitated. Is this my life now, I wondered? Life insurance? Scooters? A Senior Citizen Softball Team? Cue some old people songs. Maybe Culture Club in elevator musak. Karma Chameleon?

Some days I look in the mirror and think, "Not too shabby." Other days, though, all I see is bouffant pageant hair, two huge age spots next to my right ear, a wad of color resistant grays on my left temple, and enough hail damage on my legs to keep a dent repair company in business for decades. Now, we've seen celebrities who can't come to terms with aging. There are cases to be made for good plastic surgery for one's face (hint: Jane Fonda, according to Perez Hilton). There are cases to be made for bad work, too (hint: Melanie Griffith, according to Perez Hilton). I'm not really sure which side of this fence I fall toward. I've gotten "botoxed" twice and LOVED it. I thought it was so cool to teach myself to raise one eyebrow when I was twelve and channeling Kristian Alfonso from "Day's of Our Lives". I wanted mysterious. What I got, 30+ years later was a question mark of wrinkles above my eyebrow and a butt crack crease in between my eyes. So, Botox gets a big HECK YES from me, except I'm way too much of a cheapskate to pay for it on a regular basis. Plus, momma always told me not to buy the dented canned goods because botulism will kill you. So, there's that. But back to me gazing into the mirror! After I take note of every imperfection, I force myself to say at least 10 nice things about myself. Why? I'll tell you, but first....

Cool things I've done since I turned 40 (this is not an actual paragraph, grammar Nazi's - just a random list): I ran a 5k. It was awful and I'll never do it again. Of the non-walkers, I only beat two people. One man was at least 80 and wore a knee brace. The other gentleman was at least 90 and wore two knee braces. I vaguely remember turning as I crossed the finish line and yelling "eat my dust, Grandpa." Not my finest moment, but I DID IT. Sure, I didn't know you were just supposed to swish and spit the Gatorade at the halfway point. I doubled back for another Gatorade, took them both like a shot at the bar, and threw up in the park on the back leg of the run. But, I finished! And, I never stopped running! Also, I took a promotion that required EXTENSIVE travel, like weekly. Little old me who'd never flown solo now has a mastery of almost every major airport in the continental US! ALONE! I don't even like to fly! You can't pick up furniture off the side of the road when you fly. But, I did it! Here's another one - I realized my dream to live in a really old house. We downsized. We sold. We donated. I quit that travel job. I live the uber simple life I always wanted, hence I have time to type these words to you, today. Sure, we eat lots of beans & rice and other budget friendly stuff. But, I did it! Lastly, I had the creative spurt I'd been threatening to have for my whole life. I'm THE go to girl for lettering on just about anything. I've styled stuff for other people - think weddings and concerts and civic events. Sure, most were done with me as the creative sidekick and not the main honcho, but hey, if you don't create your own hype, who else will? My sweet Em taught me that! <3 <3 <3 The point is, without really thinking about it, I've managed to check some stuff off of my proverbial bucket list. 

Pause for the Gilligan's Island dream sequence where Ginger dreams about that illustrious career she lost when the minnow wrecked (cue harp music). The road to this new me was paved with tears, what ifs, and a whole lot of Lieutenant Dan style hatred for fate's crappy card dealing ability. The year I turned 40 turned out to be one long gut punch. I lost a kid. Poof. Gone. Bad heart. (You will NOT comment that you're sorry, or bless my heart, or anything else of that nature because it's not what this is all about. We've all got stuff.) Approximately six weeks later, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. When the dust settled it was suddenly a year later and I was angry and hollow, with an icy cold heart and a tremendous, overwhelming fear of absolutely everything. I acted like I was the same person. I pretended that I cared about whatever it was the world felt one should care about. I went through the motions. I did the work, sort of. It was a piss poor job of imitating a human being, but at least I was trying. Very slowly and very unsurely, I began to realize that maybe, just maybe, I'd been doing this life thing all wrong this whole time. My own mortality slapped me in the face. I don't have another 41 years to get this right. Heck, I might not have another 5 years. There's just no guarantee. Tomorrows aren't coupons you can redeem. Walmart does not price match on those. You can plan ever so carefully. You can have lofty goals. You can want things. You can love finer things. Ain't nothing wrong with liking nice things. But, in my case, I'd done that for my entire life. Had it gotten me where I wanted to be? Where did I want to be? Could I even answer that question? Enter the protagonist, my husband. He saved the day.

See, when we had the bad year, my husband told me something that I will always, always remember. He said I should really stop postponing my happiness. He told me to stop waiting for happiness to find me once I felt worthy. He said not to think thoughts like "I'll be happy once I lose this 10 lbs. I'll be happy as soon as I get my dream house. I'll be happy once I have that luxury car." He said when we got old and looked back on life, we wouldn't remember any of that stuff. He told me we'd only remember the big messes. The failures. The catastrophes. The chaos. And we'd miss it. And we'd realize that's where we had the most fun. That's where we were the happiest. That's where the laughter was the most hysterical and the hugs were the warmest. Am I me? Just about. I may not run another 5k and softball will NEVER be in my wheelhouse, but there are so many things I can do now that I never thought were possible. Because I am awesome, plus 9 other good things. So, take a look at yourself. Be happy now, right smack dab in the middle of all of the mess of your life. Enjoy your journey, even the Culture Club musak parts. The new, improved, sappy/saccharin me needs you to know that you really can do anything you set your mind to. Just set it for what you really want. But set it. Set it real good. ;-)