Life Archives - The Twisted Maven

New Year New…Ah, Nevermind.

Pretty accurate representation of how I looked most of January 2020.

“Every New Year is the direct descendant, isn’t it, of a long line of proven criminals?” – Ogden Nash

I know, it’s ~~the end of January~~ already the middle of February and here I am mentioning the “New Year”. I also know it’s been more than two months since my last post, which can be akin to a death knell for a blog.

But not to worry. I’m still here, still thinking, ranting, working, doing shit, and even writing.

And this is all despite a super crappy beginning to 2020, which has left me anywhere from 2 to 300 weeks behind on any and everything on my to-do list.

How crappy was the beginning of the year? Well, let me tell you. The first few days of 2020 started out okay, winter break ended, the kids went back to school after we managed not to inflict any permanent damage upon each other. And then…(insert dramatic swell of music here)

I got a cold on January 3rd. Or what I thought was a cold. A really BAD cold. Sneezing and coughing and snotting SO MUCH. Aches. Slight fever. Fatigue. The flu? Maybe. I decided the best thing I could do was rest and stay away from humanity for a couple of days. And see if a hot toddy or three would help.

Things seemed to be improving by Monday morning. I was able to get up, work, do laundry and function semi-normally. And then (insert an even more intense dramatic swell here)…

I tanked, and badly, by the end of the day. After repeating that Mom Mantra of “I’M FINE” for several hours, I reluctantly agreed to go to urgent care. The rest of my family was kind of excited because they were going to the Moe’s next door for burritos. I exacted my revenge on them by swiping a pen from the urgent care reception desk. I mean, the receptionist said I could keep it after I coughed all over it, and I figured it would be rude to not accept. (side note: there will be more on my infatuation with and collection of free pens at a later date).

My evaluation revealed that I, in fact, had pneumonia. Which I was verrrrrry skeptical about. I’ve gotten colds and bronchitis and that kind of crap, but pneumonia? For reals?? While I was yeah yeah, ok’ing the doctor, I insisted for the 27th time that day that I was FINE. And I was too busy to have pneumonia! I have work and bathrooms to clean and a writing workshop to attend tomorrow, so this pneumonia would have to just go away and leave me alone.

The doctor laughed at me and said, you’re not going to feel like doing anything. Cancel all your plans for the rest of the week, and maybe next week as well.

She wasn’t kidding. By the next morning, when I thought I should be feeling better, I instead felt like I had been slammed to the ground, beaten up, and knifed through my abdomen. With mucus pouring out of my face, and lungs that needed to be frequently and painfully cleared by coughing.

So here we are, ~~at the end of January 2020,~~ already in February 2020, whether you believe it’s a new decade this year or next. I’ve already told January to suck an egg. Which I wish I could have done sooner, of course, but here we are.

Will things magically transform with a flip of the calendar page? Not likely. And not only because I keep staring at the blank space on the wall that should be occupied by the 2020 calendar that I’m now two months behind in designing and ordering. It also has to do with the box of “Holiday Cheer and Happy New Year” cards have been languishing on the counter since the end of December. The silver lining is that it’s not going to matter what photos I put on the January page of the calendar, and the cards are so late in going out that it really doesn’t matter if I get them mailed next week or July.

The takeaway from all of this, for me, is that nothing is predictable or guaranteed. Don’t ever get used to things running smoothly or thinking things are going your way. The person who is able to dance between the raindrops and land, unscathed, on their feet will never be you, so you might as well accept it.

So what to do about that? Plan for every conceivable challenge? Look for every sign that adversity is coming? Catastrophize all the things? Sure, go ahead. I won’t be joining you in that effort. You’d be better off letting the knowledge that there are just things that happen in one lifetime that you will have no control over, sink in and become part of your subconscious.

What I mean is, YES, of course, have your contingency plans. If you can, have that extra cash stashed away, equip your cars with emergency kits, make sure you have water, non-perishable food and fuel stockpiled in your home, have legal things documented and accessible. But know that one cannot possibly account for every single way that any and every single day can go well or completely sideways.

Know that there may be those days, those moments, those periods of time when nothing in your life experience and knowledge base applies, and where you will have absolutely no idea what you’re supposed to do next, or after that, or even after that.

I mean, shit happens, right?

Shit sure does happen, mostly when you least expect it, and always has the absolute worst timing.

Lest you think I’m being all gloom and doom, a Debbie Downer, a storm of despondency, or a Negative Nellie, let me tell you: I could look at the beginning of 2020 as a chunk of time lost; lament the hours I wasn’t able to work, bemoan the housework and home maintenance that was left undone, be pissy about the extra effort I have to put in at work and home to catch up. But I’m not doing any of those things.

The beginning of this calendar year hasn’t been what I expected or could have in any way anticipated. But more thoughts were thunk and more plans were made and more epiphanies were experienced than would have been possible otherwise. I have no regrets or rueful emotions; in fact, I’m rather looking forward to how the beginning of 2020 can inform how I approach not only the rest of the year, but the rest of my life.

How about you, dear reader? How is this year shaping up for you? Are you looking to maintain your status quo or change things up? Have you faced any unexpected challenges? Have you adopted a new attitude, new goals, or both? What words of wisdom would you most like to pass along? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Until Next Time,

Just Breathe.

The Twisted Maven

Nobody Told Me

“Real knowledge is to know the extent of one’s ignorance” – Confucius

There were so many things I didn’t know intuitively about doing this adult thing, and now that I’ve experienced a great deal of them, I find myself wishing I still didn’t know about some of them. While adding years to your life can bring some wonderful moments, increased wisdom, and additional inner peace, there are definitely some things that have happened along the way that have given me pause. And I don’t mean menopause.

I put the following question out to the universe recently: what weren’t you told about being an adult, that you wish someone, anyone, had prepared your for? The responses I received were equally humorous, poignant, thought-provoking and heartbreaking.

So let’s break it down, shall we?

General Adulting:

There are no “How To Grownup” preparatory classes in high school or college. When you’re growing up, you think Adulthood is this fantastic party where you can do WHATEVER you want, WHENEVER you want.

I remember a conversation with my college BFF during our Senior year; we were both like, wow, it will be great when we graduate and can get jobs and pay for stuff and don’t have to go to class and eat bologna sandwiches on stale bread and drink cheap beer. And that’s what we did; we exchanged late nights for early mornings, rent for mortgages, internships for careers, and the single life to looking around asking ourselves, when did THIS (careers, houses, spouses, kids, MINIVANS) all happen?

When you become an adult, you need to figure out, and do, ALL the things. You need to work out things such as how to manage your time and finances, how to socialize, how to advance your career, how to clean and cook and, you know, grown-up things.

If you own a car, you have to pay attention to maintenance and repairs. Blowing up your car engine, because you didn’t realize those oil change reminders actually meant something, is a really expensive lesson to learn.

The same goes for home ownership. I heard from people who were just astounded at the amount of time and expense that goes into simple maintenance, let alone anything extra. This is definitely an area that I was naive about, to the point of immense regret of thinking I could be solely responsible for the upkeep and maintenance of an actual building and the land associated with it. The fact that the inside of my house generally looks like the aftermath of Armageddon is a consequence of kids and time/space management, and can be remedied relatively quickly. However, the faded front door color, the weed (not the good kind) garden I’ve nurtured via complete disregard, the kitchen drawers that stick, and the cobwebs that accumulate in the corners…just ugh.

Another thread of comments I received was about expectations vs. reality. The fact that a college degree does not, in fact, guarantee a person a decent income. Which is a double whammy when one has put themselves into a decade or two of student loan debt. Growing apart from friends that you thought would always be in your day-to-day existence. The wish that one had been encouraged to follow their heart, their dreams and their passions, instead of trying to conform to societal expectations. The realization that upon reaching adulthood, one does not, in fact, automatically get their shit together.

And then there’s the good things people didn’t know; like when you say “no” and nobody kills or even hates you, and you finally understand that that one word is an acceptable and absolute answer to many questions in life. Another one is the realization that it is reasonable and even respectable to re-invent yourself, start over, ask for a re-do; because life does not have to be the same-old, same-old once you turn 30, 50, 75, or beyond.

Marriage and Romantic Relationships:

Most of what I heard is that nobody tells you how freaking HARD it is to be married. That people change over time, and what may have brought two people together in their 20’s (or at any age) has absolutely no bearing on or relevance to who those two people are in their 30’s, 40’s, and beyond. The stressors, that no one thinks of when they’re planning their wedding, take so many people by surprise. Whether it’s having kids, having difficulty or not being able to have kids, one partner not wanting kids while the other wants them more than anything, career changes, leaving the workforce, relocation, or change of financial status, the list of potential big changes and challenges to a married couple goes on and on and on. There have been those couples who struggled and ultimately split up, those who have struggled and stayed together, those who have found true happiness the second time around, those who have lost their spouses to disease or accidents before they were ready, those who truly have never met their match, and those who have decided that marriage or other long-term relationships are just not for them.

A sub-topic of this that I got input about, that is even more complicated, is abusive relationships. Even the realization that one is in an abusive relationship can be astoundingly difficult to accept. I lack the expertise to weigh in on this topic, but I believe the person who stated that an abuser won’t change.

Pregnancy, Childbirth, and Post-Childbirth:

The farting. This definitely caught me by surprise, and I’m not the only one.

Hemorrhoids. As one friend put it, they’re not very funny when they’re attached to YOUR asshole.

The distraction. My squirrel brain, formerly rather orderly, came out full force when I was pregnant, and has never quite returned to it’s former calm sta-crap, I forgot to make lunches again. Is there any clean laundry? Where are my glasses? What is that smell?

Many women (and men) were not totally prepared for childbirth. When there is SO MUCH information out there, how is that even possible? My guess is that one can gather as much knowledge as humanly possible about every single kind of birth scenario, but our brains aren’t capable of preparing us for every single kind of birth scenario. This is why so many expectant parents make birth plans. We WANT things to be orderly and we WANT to be in control. And with giving birth, truly, anything can happen. How many of you, or friends of yours, have had emergency C-sections? Or were in active labor for hours and hours and hours, and then more hours? Almost gave birth before getting to the hospital or before the doctor, midwife, or doula arrived?

Personally, I was fortunate in that the events of birthing my two babies were relatively easy, albeit wildly different. One baby plodded out of my uterus on her own time, in an event that was calm, relatively pain-free (once I got that epidural!) and exactly as planned, but it seemed to take forever (okay, don’t hate me, but it was really only a matter of a few hours). My second baby arrived as many days early as her sister arrived late, and her arrival was more like Jack Nicholson’s character in The Shining, making her entrance by bursting through and nearly demolishing the doorway, scaring the shit out of everybody, and leaving a bloody mess in her wake. But at least it was over quickly.

One of the biggest surprises of giving birth for some was the fact that they pushed out something extra along with a baby. For those of you who don’t know because you haven’t forced an entire human out your bajingo…just think about it for a sec. The birther is exerting herself beyond anything otherwise reasonable, and the entirety of her digestive system has been squished into any available space around this tiny human’s incubator. So, yeah, poop can, and does, happen.

One friend chose to tell me about it via a direct message. On which she inadvertently cc’d her daughter, the one who caused the birth poop. When my friend realized her mistake and was OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD-ing, I was literally on the floor, howling with laughter, and the Birth Poop daughter was completely nonplussed. My hope is that now she’ll be better prepared for childbirth that her mom was, should she ever find herself in that situation.

The fact that sneezing (or coughing, or jumping, or any sudden movements) are never quite conducted after giving birth (or after a woman turns 40, whichever comes first) without a moment of self-check in, and sometimes an awkward knees-and-thighs-squeezed-together sprint to the bathroom.

Parenting:

The input I got about this category was wide-ranging and substantial, so I’ve made a few sub-categories. Except the two categories which are Sleep and Going to the Bathroom Alone. Neither of those things happen once you give birth. They know and they will find you, in your deepest dreams or your most urgent need to use the toilet, with something absolutely earth shattering, like “Hi Mama, watcha doin?” or “Ma! Whats for dinner?”.

Parenting Little Boys: They pee everywhere. Except into the toilet. They feel the need to stretch their penises like taffy when they are toddlers. Boy pee has been sniffed out, felt, and cleaned up from the most unlikeliest of places

Parenting Little Girls: They scream a lot. Like a LOT a lot. And a lot of time is spent teaching daughters how to wipe themselves front to back (aka, don’t sweep the dirt back into the kitchen).

Parenting Bigger Boys: They still pee everywhere. And they can make you angrier than you ever thought possible. And can also make you prouder than you ever thought you could be.

Parenting Bigger Girls: They still scream a lot. And they can also make you angrier than you ever thought possible. And after the screaming is done, there are those hugs and tears as you pull them close and never want to let them go.

General Parenting (for all ages):

There is a LOT of guilt and fear.

Every stupid and inappropriate thing we say is repeated by our littles, usually at the worst moments possible. Like quoted verbatim, in front of my mother.

We all have moments when we realize that we have totally lost our former selves, and we decide to do something about that, or not.

We feel totally stupid trying to help with math homework.

We feel judged, no matter our situation. If you’re a SAHM, you feel the shade your working sisters are throwing your way; if you are a working mother, you feel the side-eye directed at you from the SAHMs because you aren’t involved enough with your kids’ school and extra-curricular activities (sidenote: those feelings of being judged are likely all in your head; most of the moms I know feel judged, but don’t judge).

You’ve felt real anger about a child that you know only by name whom you are convinced is tormenting your child. But then, you also wonder if you are doing enough to raise your child to be compassionate and kind, because what if they aren’t?

And oh…those times when you’re not sure if you’re cut out for this parenting gig, you’re not sure if you love them enough…and they do something that brings you to your knees with gratitude and the knowledge that yes, you are enough.

Aging/Getting Older:

Another category that I received a ton of feedback on. So here goes:

You reach the point where hangovers last days instead of hours.

You realize how dysfunctional your upbringing actually was.

You come to the painful understanding that adulthood can be extremely lonely.

You mentally still feel like you’ve barely graduated college, and here you are trying to work and spouse and parent, and you are wondering who actually thought it was a good idea for you to be trusted with this level of responsibility.

You have little or no tolerance for anyone’s bullshit, and you finally shed the expectations you thought were foisted upon you. And if it affects your friendships or family relationships, so be it.

Acknowledging not only the “firsts” but the “lasts”. As in, this is the last year in my 40’s. This is the last time I’m going to drop my kid off at elementary school. This is the last mortgage payment I’m going to make. This is the last year my child is going to believe in Santa Claus.

Aging in general comes with no manual. Injuries and inconveniences earlier in your life can come back with significant and limiting consequences. You may feel like you’re 35, but one look in the mirror tells you a very different story. Staring at your reflection and thinking that you look tired, and then realizing that this is just your look now (raises hand).

Having the responsibility of caring for and/or about your aging parents or grandparents. There is no tried-and-true guidance for making the tough decisions or dealing with inevitable declines that happen as our parents and grandparents grow old.

So there it is. Some of it, anyway. As for myself, I may never get this whole being a grownup thing totally nailed down, but it’s not for a lack of trying. And when I put my question out to the universe, I was amazed and encouraged by how many people experience the same thoughts and feelings.

So what about you? What resonated with you, and what can you tell me that no one told you about? Please feel free to leave a comment! And if you liked this post, please share!

Until Next Time…

Just Breathe.

The Twisted Maven

© The Twisted Maven, 2019

Serendipity.

“Serendipity: the faculty or phenomenon of finding valuable or agreeable things not sought for” – Merriam-Webster Dictionary

Sure, I have written a bit about the dissolution of my former career. And I can say with confidence, that yes, I am definitely happier now than I was during the majority of that 20+ year consulting career. However, the separation from that career, and from my last job in that career, was not without significant cost and a lot of feelings.

Maybe I’ll detail all those feelings and costs in a future post, but for now, suffice to say that the loss of my job, the loss of a schedule, the loss of income, the loss of status as a full-time working parent was a pretty big blow to my psyche.

But amidst my floundering and existential crisising and organizing and napping and stay-at-home momming, there have been all these “and then…” moments that can only be described as serendipity. For example, I wasn’t looking to work with kids, I didn’t have a burning desire to coach anything, I wasn’t dying to make connections within my community…and then…

Serendipity happened, because Girls on the Run happened.

Three years ago, I started my first season as a coach for Girls on the Run in my community. We were one of four pilot programs for the newly formed Girls on the Run of Greater Hartford council.

To say I was nervous at the outset is an understatement. I’d never coached a team before. I’d never spent much time with tween girls. I didn’t know the two women I’d be coaching with, although between the two of them, they seemed to be friends with EVERYONE in our small town, a fact that my reticent and introverted self found intimidating. I didn’t consider myself capable of being inspirational, garnering respect or demonstrating strength. I mean, I’d just flunked out of my career, for shits’s sake! Oh, and I swear a lot.

Within the first few weeks, my apprehension turned to excitement and anticipation, which eventually evolved into confidence and appreciation and joy. The lessons that Girls on the Run strives to teach are so spot on with this age group, and these girls REALLY got it. And my co-coaches? They were simply amazing women whom I quickly came to view as friends, and continue to do so. The same goes for every single other person I’ve had the pleasure to coach with since that first season.

You see, the Girls on the Run program isn’t just about running. That first season, and every season since, we played games and set goals and ran, jogged, or walked laps. We had serious conversations about peer pressure, teamwork, support, strength, friendship and a lot of other issues that are helpful to girls in this stage of their lives. I was amazed by the depth and maturity of their thoughts and responses to some complex issues that they have dealt with or will deal with down the road. I also enjoyed their silliness and goofing around and the way kids just act like kids, with their lack of filters, their loudness and their laughter.

As it turns out, I really enjoy being around kids. Sharing the Girls on the Run lessons with the teams I coached was such a privilege. I was not only imparting some really useful knowledge to these girls, but I was also reinforcing and applying the concepts in my own life. And I found that I am certainly able to communicate with kids without using curse words. Woot!

And then…

After three years and six seasons as a Coach for Girls on the Run, I am now the Program Coordinator for Girls on the Run of Greater Hartford. With this position, I’ve been able to meld the management, organizational and mentoring capabilities I’d gained in my previous career with my knowledge of the Girls on the Run program and my desire to make the world a better place by helping women and girls feel confident, connected, capable, and empowered.

So, serendipity. I wasn’t looking for Girls on the Run, but we found each other, and we have both benefited. I say that statement as a humble truth, without caveats or qualifications. And now it’s time to send the message, as far and wide as I can, why I am, and will continue to be, so passionate about Girls on the Run:

Because I could have totally benefited from a program like this when I was in elementary and middle school. And I have heard the same exact thing from SO MANY other women who learn about Girls on the Run!
Because research and statistics demonstrate that Girls on the Run provides positive messages and boosts academic and social success for girls.
Because my ability to communicate with my daughters has improved after we all participated in the program.
Because I have witnessed how Girls on the Run can increase not only physical fitness, but also confidence, compassion, and teamwork.
Because Girls on the Run is an inclusive program for girls; no matter their financial status, ethnicity, geographic location, disabilities, sexual orientation or athleticism. This program is for EVERY GIRL.
Because I have been gifted with so many moments that have brought me to tears and cheers, due to the unifying, strengthening and amazing things that happen with and between Girls on the Run participants, even extending beyond practices and teams.
Because being a Girls on the Run coach has positively influenced my own life. It’s boosted my self-esteem, social abilities, and my connection to my community.
Because parent feedback has been overwhelmingly positive, and parents and girls are truly learning better ways to communicate with each other.
Because the teams are able to transcend cliques and grade groups, girls are able make friends who will support each other beyond the program.
Because there’s nothing better than a girl who is confident, compassionate, connected to her community, and believes she is capable of anything!

So there’s my tale of serendipity; what’s yours? Have you ever just found yourself taking a moment and appreciating something that you weren’t necessarily seeking, but that has brought you great joy?

If you’d like to learn more about Girls on the Run Greater Hartford, including how to become a volunteer or bring a site to your community, click here. And if you’re outside of the Greater Hartford, CT area and would like to learn more about Girls on the Run, including coaching and/or bringing a team to your area, click here.

Please comment below or send me an email, I’d love to hear from you about your serendipitous moments, your experience with or questions about Girls on the Run, and anything you’d like to see in future posts! And if you like what you’ve read, please share!

Until Next Time…

Just Breathe.

The Twisted Maven

The Time When My Baby Turned Ten

Ten seems to be the magical age, when your children are more formed than unformed…

“There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children. One of these is roots, the other, wings.” – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

How is it that, having put a space of four years between my children, it seems that the milestones are occurring ever closer together? It feels like years, but also minutes, since I wrote about my oldest turning ten. That particular piece has been lost to the wind, maybe never to be retrieved. But in this case, it doesn’t matter, because my words to L the Younger don’t apply to L the Older, and vice versa.

Ten seems to be the magical age, when your children are more formed than unformed, and you can see glimpses of what their adult selves will be like, should everything go according to plan. I mean, nothing ever goes exactly according to plan, but you know what I mean. You can definitely sense who they are, in a larger sense.

My older girl, my ladybug, she has always been mature and not here for any bullshit. She is the kid who couldn’t wait to turn ten, then 13, now she’s 14 and in high school and I swear she’d skip right to college and beyond if she had the choice. Her personality was largely formed by the age of four, and I recognized then that her reticence, her determination that things were solidly either RIGHT or WRONG, and her ability to sense and absorb the thoughts and emotions of those around her would serve her well as she grew into adolescence and adulthood. I still feel that way. But navigating these teen years…well, that’s another post for another day, when I’m able to speak from a place of calm perspective. And that’s definitely not today.

But oh…my second child. My butterfly, who will extend affection to anyone who needs it, who only wants to see you smile, who wants to hug the world, who also easily absorbs the thoughts and emotions of those around her, but uses that gift very differently from her sister. Instead of using her sensitivity to lead, guide and advise, she uses it to comfort and humor those around her. She’s got charisma for days, along with a great capacity for love, a goofy sense of humor, and the desire to leave everyone she encounters a little bit happier than they were before.

However, she also wants what she wants exactly when she wants it, has no sense of time or urgency, and does not deal well with raised voices or even mildly harsh words.

She’s the emotional gauge of our household. If there’s any tension, she picks up on it, feels it acutely, and will act out because of it. If there’s joy, she embraces it wholeheartedly. If there’s anger, she gets sullen. If there is laughter, she’s right there in the middle of it. And she mostly does this without any knowledge of the context of these emotions.

She knows when I’m hurting, emotionally and/or physically, no matter my attempts to conceal that from her. Without fail, those are the moments that she comes to me with hugs, an invitation to read with her, and the need to be physically close to me.

She engages me in conversation, and always, and I mean ALWAYS, wants to talk about what’s going on in her world. School, American Ninja Warrior, Harry Potter, and America’s Got Talent are her favorite topics of discussion. Somehow, she makes these conversations engaging and analytical, as well as never-ending.

She is also an enthusiastic participant in activities outside of academics. She started playing the flute last year, and practices almost daily without being told. Sidenote: when her sister started taking guitar lessons, there was a demand that she stick to a practice schedule, and consequences when she didn’t. And lo and behold, she lost the desire to practice and her love for the instrument. So when L the Younger started with the flute, I let her set her practice schedule, and her love for music and the desire to improve has come along naturally. Lesson learned.

She just started her 5th season of Girls on the Run, which is also the first season that I haven’t been a coach. And by all reports, she is doing amazing, and likely much better than she was when I coached her team. She also loves basketball and lacrosse, mostly due to her sister’s influence, but I hope she embraces both of those sports going forward for herself.

Because she is my second-born, and because she’s still shorter than everyone else in my house, it’s sometimes a challenge not to think of her as a “little kid”, incapable of doing much of anything without my assistance. But, as she reminds me frequently, she is absolutely capable of doing many things without my assistance.

I can’t help but think, often, that I don’t deserve these two children to whom I gave birth to. I strive daily to be a good role model, a source of wisdom and comfort, and a good mom. I feel like they have outpaced me, already, in intelligence and in their desire to succeed in making the world a better place.

So to my “little” one, to my butterfly, to the one I wished for, for so long: these past 10 years have flown by, but I am grateful that I paused long enough to breathe in your baby moments, acknowledge the milestones that you’ve achieved thus far, had the ability to set a unsatisfactory career aside and participate more in your and your sister’s lives, and to show you what can be achieved when you follow your passions.

Also, I don’t want to put forth any platitudes about success, because they are mostly tied to monetary gain, and I want you to define for yourself what success looks like. I do hope, however, that success looks like exploring and finding what interests you, working hard, and being satisfied that you are a good human.

And lastly, thank you for all the love you give me, the challenges you throw my way, the time we spend together, your smarts, your chaos, your laughter, and for just being the best you that you can be.

I love you to the moon and back. Twice.

Until Next Time…

Just Breathe

The Twisted Maven

Middle Age Range Changes (or, what is this bullsh*t??)

“Evolving into a middle-aged person is quite interesting if we can understand what it means. I would like to think it meant being a bit sure of what I want.” – Dawn French

Before starting to write this piece, I researched the definition of “middle age”. One, to delineate an age range, and two, to make doubly sure that I actually fall into that category, being that I’m still solidly in my 40’s for a bit. Not a long bit, just a little bit, but still…a bit.

Now that I’m convinced by my research that I do, indeed, qualify as being middle aged, I started to ponder what differentiates my age bracket from my past (“young adult”) and future (“senior citizen”) classifications.

This whole train of thought was brought about by my last visit to my optometrist. When I turned 40, he told me that I could expect my eyesight to degenerate, and soon. At that point, I only needed glasses for distance, and the prescription was mild.

I thought I was defying the aging process for several years after that visit, because my eyesight barely changed. Then, the day of reckoning came with respect to my eyesight, along with my 30th High School reunion. Hence the pondering about middle age, and the recognition that I’m experiencing things that pretty much define middle age.

So here is my more or less comprehensive list of the kind of bullshit that goes on once one reaches a certain age:

My eyesight went from pretty good to holding everything at arms’ length in order to read it or squinting.
And I mean everything; school forms, prescription bottles, menus, books, everything.
I now wear “progressive lenses” in my glasses, which means that I can now see the car dashboard and read street signs simultaneously. But it also means I have to tilt my head dramatically downward in order to walk down the stairs without falling. And my chins have some issues with that.
I’ve noticed I’ve been saying “what?” a lot more frequently. I don’t know if that’s because I attended concerts in my youth with no regard for protecting my hearing, worked around loud machinery for a number of years without earplugs, or if I just don’t care about most of what is happening around me until I realize that I might have missed some crucial information.
My daughter is now taller than me and my mother is now shorter than me.
I realized while on vacation and wearing a bathing suit every day, I don’t have much body hair to deal with anymore. I also realized that it could totally be my failing eyes tricking me. So, um, I’m sorry if it looks like I’m storing squirrels under my arms. I can’t get an arms length away to see what’s actually going on there.
The above also came with the realization that most of the hair on my body seems to have migrated to my chin.
I’m fortunate enough to have a best friend who pointed me to products to take care of said chin hair.
Also, I’ve reached the point in my life where a little body hair doesn’t bother me, especially now that I seem (again, could be due to degrading eyesight) to have less of it. And once late October comes, that razor gets tossed out of the window. I live in New England, I need all the warmth I can get.
The chances of me peeing a little bit when I cough, laugh or sneeze are pretty high.
When I google any kind of malaise I’m feeling, it always points to cancer, lupus, allergies, and/or death.
I don’t go to the doctor unless my google searches point to cancer, lupus, allergies, and/or death…but only if death seems especially imminent.
Moving from sitting on the floor to standing requires some sort of mental preparation and vocal self-encouragement.
I’m tired all of the time, and yet, I can’t sleep.
Related, caffeine is an absolute necessity immediately upon starting my day, otherwise I will stare blankly into space in a semi-conscious state. Until said caffeine is consumed and takes effect.
Are these hot flashes or is everywhere exceptionally warm, all the time? I’m not sure.
I grouse about a lot of things now, like how fast people drive, how loud a neighbor is, taxes, and “kids today”.
Smelling babies is a perfectly acceptable activity.
The fear of encountering dangerous wildlife, including bears, ticks, spiders, bugs, skunks, turkeys, geese, flying assholes that sting, teenagers and rattlesnakes, anywhere outside of my home, has become a thing.
As has the untimely or maybe timely illnesses and deaths of peers and their parents. As a friend put it recently, “I guess we are just at that age where people start dying.” It’s not a pleasant thing, it’s actually an awful thing, but yet…it’s a thing.

And the list can go on, of course. But I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the fact that I have more love and kindness in my heart than I ever dreamed possible during my younger years. And that I care more deeply about social and political issues now than I did even 10 years ago.

I’ve gone from the abstract thought 20 years ago that maybe I’d be a good parent, to actively trying, every day, to achieve that goal; and I strive to be a good role model and affect the world in a positive way as a mentor and coach and teacher, and in just trying to be a good human.

In that vein, I’ve also accepted that I’m flawed and have some issues and baggage, some of which are of my own creation, but all of which are mine to deal with.

And perhaps most importantly, I’ve realized that objects and money and status was never a goal of mine; rather, what I give is so much more important than what I get. What I do, NOT what I own, is what truly matters to me.

While the younger version of me might never have understood those thoughts and concepts, I hope that the older version of me will be proud and satisfied with my decisions in this middle age.

At least during the moments when I’m not screaming at people to GET OFF MY LAWN!

Until Next Time…

Just Breathe.

The Twisted Maven