Hi All. I missed posting at 900 days, so here I am at 906, thank you very much. Already thinking about what reward I should ask for at 1000, gotta be something good.
Life is good, made it through the chaos of Christmas and the quiet of New Year’s, when you get to be my age life quiets down. No parties, no nights out, we sort of cocoon, which is fine now. When I was drinking it wasn’t so fine, it meant more time on the couch with wine.
Anyway, it’s about the title to my post. It’s probably influenced by the start of another year, the fucking frigid temps we’re experiencing right now (shouldn’t complain though, it hasn’t been a bad winter by Chicago standards), the grey skies, my grey hair (my decision, but…). I’ve been very contemplative lately. That’s a damn lie, I’ve been feeling sorry for myself. You see, this is a big birthday year for me. I’ll be sixty fucking five years old in September. I know, I know, 9 months away and I’m dreading it already. I’ll be eligible for “senior” discounts, fuck that. It’s only a number. Right? Wrong. It’s reality, I might not look or act that old but I’m that old on the inside. Sucks, doesn’t it? Mished up had a great post recently that fit my mood perfectly.https://mishiam.wordpress.com. Don’t think I linked that right but you’ll find it. Her post is very insightful and elegant. I just want to bitch and moan. My blog, my bitching. I developed a real potty month when I hit 60 and I won’t apologize for that, I like it, stress release. Still have to bite my tongue around the little ones but you’re all adults, sort of.
This might get a bit long and tedious and boring so if you want to leave now I won’t be offended. That, too, is a damn lie. Need you all, I have since day 1 and that hasn’t changed.
Anyhoo, I don’t like this mortality shit. David Bowie, 4 years older, Glenn Frey, 2 years. WTF. Granted they were ill and I’m healthy as a horse. (What the hell that means I’ll never know). I take NO medications, which I think is pretty damn good. Just vitamins, my BP is good, cholesterol is great, weight is good. But this age thingy is bothering my head. Thank God I’m not drinking anymore. If I was I would look and feel my age, my BP would be high, my cholesterol would read a false number because of what alcohol does. I’d probably be taking something for depression and I’d be drinking myself into deeper depression. Alcohol is EVIL. Anyone reading this now in your 50’s or 60’s STOP drinking now. It will take you down so much faster than is necessary, just stop now. The outside and inside of you isn’t like it was when you were 40, no matter how you feel. Give it the fuck up now, not tomorrow or next Tuesday. Do something smart and good for yourself and stop now. Oh and if you’re younger, stop now so you make it to your 50’s or 60’s.
I’m done preaching. But one more thing, don’t tell me how lucky I am because my life is charmed. I’ve been down the rabbit hole. Fought my way out. I feel like a little wallowing, it will end soon.
So since this is all about me, let’s get back to it. It’s very hard to reconcile in your head that you’re going to be 65, Rod Stewart’s Forever Young is like an ear worm in my brain. If my husband retires I could go on MEDICARE. Shit that’s for old people. It’s hard when your head thinks you’re 40 but you have arthritis in your back and a frozen shoulder. I just push through, an Aleve every now and then and I’m good to go. I’m active. Addicted to Pilates and my dogs and occasionally #1. He makes me feel young, I should throw more attention his way for that. Note to self.
I walk everywhere, even in this weather and I’ve become a mall walker with all the old people. Good news is there’s a lot of stroller moms there pushing their babies around for exercise. I’ve even taken my grandchildren in strollers and walked there. ( Do you think I look good enough to be mistaken for their mom? Hell NO.) Not even in my skinny jeans, oh don’t be grossed out, I can wear them. I refuse to wear old baggy Mom jeans even if I do have a turkey neck. At least I don’t wear leggings without tunic tops, what’s with that. Women, no matter the age, should not wear leggings without a top that covers their ass. I digress.
All this to say this is a bitter pill to swallow. Anyime the first digit rolls over is annoying, but this little 5 to the right of the 6 is a particularly tough one. I thought I felt mortal at 50, it was nothing like this. They’re dropping like flies around me and I don’t like it at all. I just started really really living again some 906 days ago. I’ve got a lot more to do in the next 30 or 40 years. So I best get started.
Our goal should be to live life in radical amazement…get up in the morning and look at the world in a way that takes nothing for granted. Everything is phenomenal… Abraham Joshua Heschel
Me and my #1 (not very flattering of #1, stand up straight and suck in)
This one’s just for fun. See any resemblance. That’s one of my babies and the little green guy is, well, know you do.
Just posting all this makes me feel better. Ciao.