Stumbling Through the Years

A subject that is very close to my heart these days is aging or to put it bluntly, getting old. The phrase "growing old gracefully" would never be used to define my process. I am finding myself stumbling through the years.

For so long, I've dreaded growing older. It didn't matter that it was going to happen unless my ashes had been scattered to the winds. It mattered that I didn't want to ever be old. So, I have fought it all the way. I color my hair to hide the grays. I take vitamins and supplements to help hide the sagging skin and aching bones. I don't dress my age (though I'm not exactly sure how a woman my age dresses). On a good day, I can pass for less than 40 and that makes me happy.

However, something I have discovered is that while I care how I look, being a woman of a certain age affords me things that I haven't considered. I am more willing to let go of certain inhibitions. I don't care if people stare if I am on the arm of a man considerably younger than myself. I dress how I feel comfortable and if someone is uncomfortable with that, then that someone can bite me. I tend to speak my mind a bit more. I'm not afraid to flex my brain and show my intelligence. I'm also a bit more willing to admit that I'm wrong. Aging has afforded me all of this. 

When I speak, I speak from experience and mistakes . When I give advice, I don't sugarcoat the words. I'm blunt and to the point. I don't promise that my advice is the best, but I do guarantee that whatever it is, you'll get through it. 

I've learned to take care of me, for me. It may mean a day of grocery shopping, cooking, and doing my hair. It may also mean lying in bed, watching shows to soothe my soul, and letting go of whatever is on my mind. I'm not afraid to take some time for me. Some days, I still want to build a blanket fort, crawl inside with some chocolate milk, Cheetos, and a good book, and kill a day, but I keep struggling through the pain.

I have also learned to not be so restrictive on myself. I don't deny myself the things that make me happy. People, especially women, used to approach me and make rude comments about my clothing choices. Women, I didn't know, thought their opinion needed to be heard. Quite frankly, I don't let them get to me anymore. It still happens, but I don't let it bother me. If you feel the need to comment on my weight, my hair color, my marital status, or my clothing, trust me, it says more about you than it does about me.

And I'm learning to like myself. There are still days when I look in the mirror to get ready for work and groan. But there are more days when I can look at my reflection and like what I see. I know the woman in the mirror is trying her best. I know her heart and her soul are good. I know that the twinkle in her eye shows her mischievous side. I know that underneath the plethora of colors on her head lies a brain filled with knowledge and aching to know more. I know the hands applying the make-up have worked hard and played just as hard. I also know the body may be soft and squishy, but it has been held by the very best this world can offer.

I will never be one who ages with grace. I will continue to stumble through the years, but I will do it with style and confidence. And if I'm lucky, maybe most people will mistake the stumble for a dance.