It wasn’t until this last month that I realized that I completely missed being 49 because I have been so pre-occupied with the big 5-0. So in our last week together, I’m taking pause to turn all my attention on:
Being 49 (or signs of):
- Wearing one earring. Not because I lost one. But because I got distracted and didn’t put the other one in. (Either that or I took one out the night before and got distracted…)
- Marveling at the reappearance of pimples. Feeling youthful.
- Grabbing a pair of scissors, instead of a comb, when knots reappear in my hair after a 40 year absence.
- Wearing my underwear inside out with the tag sticking out of my pants. (Not on purpose.)
- Rooting through the trash for something that is still in my hand.
- Worrying about 3 things at once, but unable to think about one thing long enough to produce a coherent sentence.
- Words as elusive as fireflies, flickering in and out of my awareness before I can claim them. Mainly nouns. Speaking without them. Hoping my family can guess. Lots of charades and pointing. And frustration.
- Amazed that I can’t figure out what day of the week it is.
- Ditto on the above; but about the season. (Seriously.)
- Why is everything so dark and blurry and quiet?
- Reading requires lighting and eye glasses and patience and context clues.
- More and more of my friends lean in to hear me.
- More and more, I have to ask mumbling people to repeat themselves.
- Sometimes there is a little man in my ear sending Morse Code.
- I consider learning Morse Code to find out what he is saying.
- Pandora suggests pharmaceutical cream for my aging, itchy vagina.
- My vagina starts talking to me.
- Comfort trumps appearance. Minimizers and lifters are abandoned, then bras altogether, at least at home, and more and more, in public. My younger self would be appalled.
- Suddenly wanting to wear dresses and skirts, not to be feminine, but to be free. (And, alright, feminine.)
- Letting my belly go. Letting it release into itself. Getting to know it instead of hiding it. Instead of scolding it. Instead of hating it.
- Living the body I have. Letting go of thoughts of something else.
- Living the life I have. Letting go of thoughts of something else.
- Living the issues I have.
- Noticing depression. Without trying to chase it away.
- Recognizing despair and how it forces greater alignment and attunement to self/soul/spirit.
- New insight into my mother’s sedentary years.
- Finding myself sitting more than moving.
- Growing appreciation of benches in public places.
- Napping, even after caffeine.
- Inability to sleep even when I’m exhausted.
- I have to get up to pee.
- I have to get up to pee.
- I have to get up to pee.
- Less urgency. Time stretched further. No longer now or never. Some things can happen another time. Or other lives.
- Living withing paradox.
- Time suddenly cut short.
- Feeling both incredibly generative and acutely despairing.
- Loving the world more and more while infuriated with its same antics.
- Wanting to be alone and with people.
- Wanting excitement and contentment.
- Wanting to feel balanced and loose.
- My knees suddenly have a lot to say when I go from standing to the floor or from the floor to standing. I’m ignoring this in the hope it will go away.
- More and more of my desires are shifting from the external to the internal.
- I’m my favorite person. Sometimes.
- My mind turns me on and turns on me.
- I’m beginning to doubt reality.
- My dreams bleed into my days.
- My insurance company is the first to send me 50th birthday greetings, suggesting greater coverage.
- I realize that everything passes. The bad. The good.
And even,
me…