“Adults are just obsolete children and the hell with them.” ― Dr. Seuss
I always thought being an adult would be so much easier than it is. I think everyone does.
I remember reaching my 20s and thinking that I was so mature, yet knowing I was not ready for the world.
By the time I hit my 30s, I had two young children and was in a desperately unhappy marriage. My children where my focus and I thought I had it all under control.
By the time I hit my 40s, I’d been through a horrible divorce, chronic illness, new love, growing children, a new child at 40, mortgage payments, bills, bills bills…
I’m only 45 now. I’m still young. What have I learned about being and adult in this time? It’s hard as fuck. It can be rewarding as hell. It’s usually a rollercoaster of ups and downs, life and death, bliss and deep depression.
I’m so stoked for this, it deserves it’s own post. If you haven’t watched the Bill and Ted movies before DO IT NOW! Only wish George Carlin was around to reprise his role as Rufus.
EXCELLENT!
Bill and Ted 3: Face the Music coming August 21, 2020.
“i have laughed
more than daffodils
and cried more than June.”
― Sanober Khan
Sometimes it only takes one word for a bittersweet rush of memories to flood in.
I’ve been listening to Edie (Ciao Baby) on repeat all morning. I get obsessed with a song from time to time. A friend has a cat named Edie. I hear her name and instantly this song comes to mind.
Along with the song comes a flood of memories…teen to young adult memories. Driving in the summer with friends to the beach. The sun glittering off the water blinding me. The smell of the woodlands. The evanescent sense of embracing a love.
Memories of concerts loud, booming, throbbing with bodies moving in time. Closeness as that first kiss is on the verge of becoming true.
Memories of driving too fast. The rush of adrenaline from tipping it a little too far. The carefree roaming through a fairground, friends surrounding me.
Memories of lost ones, their voices still an echo in my mind. The feeling of the wind rushing past my waist-length hair out a car window. The spinning of the world, watching the stars in a swirl of light and bliss (usually alcohol driven at the time).
Memories of laughter, pleasure, naivety, innocence, pure unadulterated joy. The awfulness of hurt washed away in a flood of being.
Memories of times so wistful they have a dream-like iridescence about them.
Where has that young woman gone? Quiet rebellion, dancing with every song, moving amongst the throng of bodies; the music so loud our ears would ring and we did not care. We hugged, we laughed, we danced, we drank too much, we were.
Where has that sense of endless being gone? The tears fall freely, the sense of longing and loss are bitter pills to swallow. I’ve dreamt of recapturing that essence, but how?
“The dogs lay at your feet, Edie
Oh, we caressed your cheek
Oh, stars wrapped in your hair
Oh, life without a care
Ciao baby”
“Why melt your life away in mourning? Why let grief eat you alive?” ― Sophocles
I had a whole post written about recent deaths my family has experienced and I realized that I wanted to celebrate life and not focus on death.
People get so wrapped up in the lives of others that we forget that WE have a life to live. Stop wasting it worrying about what your neighbour is doing in their home and focus on what you can do in yours.
Go outside, breath in that air – ok, it’s cold as fuck right now so maybe wait for a warmer day, unless you live where it’s warm than go for it.
Walk barefoot in the grass and remember that simple joy of just being when you were a kid.
Feel the glint of the sun as it dances across your eyes and feel grateful for that simple gift.
Remember to tell the ones you care about, that you do care. Don’t hide it away.
I feel like a gawddamn Hallmark card right now, but we’ve had blow after blow this past while and I just want to feel joy. Contentment. I don’t expect an epic life, but I do want a happy life. I don’t expect to be well known, but I do want those I love to remember me in happiness.
We seem to be getting told on a regular basis that unless you’re doing or having all these ‘things’ that you can’t have a meaningful happy life. Bullshit. Even the most flitting of lives have joy and meaning. Even when meaning seems lost, it’s still there. Don’t waste it by focusing on the shitty. There’s enough crap in our lives daily; if all you did was focus on the shit depression will win. I know that. It’s taken me 45 years to realize it, and it will take longer to get my brain to stop, but I get it.
K, I’m off to polish up on my sunshine and rainbows…they’ve gone a little dark over the years and need to be cleaned up.
“Pasta doesn’t make you fat. How much pasta you eat makes you fat.” – Giada De Laurentiis
I’ve got back…LOTS and lots of back. Too much really. I won’t give my measurements, but my BMI is 41.3. Yes, that is morbidly obese.
I’ve also got hope. LOTS and lots of hope.
Yes, I have tried pretty damn near every diet, plan, scam, etc out there. I’ve tried Slim Fast, I’ve tried It Works! (it doesn’t). I’ve tried being vegan, I’ve tried cutting back, keto, Atkins, exercise plans…oh my, I could go on and on. I won’t.
What I haven’t tried – surgery. I met the bariatric team on Friday and I have so much hope. I hope I qualify, I hope I can do this! No, I KNOW I can do this. I can learn to love loose skin, what I can’t learn to do is feel aches and pains and heavy breathing from activities others take for granted. Feeling weak and breathless after going up a flight of stairs to another floor is NOT ok. Even with MS, it isn’t. Painful knees and hips when walking is NOT ok. A back that tightens up from simple walking.
Struggling with self-image and being unable to keep up with my children is not ok. I want to swim with them, run with them, play with them. I want to hike with them. I want to garden and enjoy it as much physically as I do mentally.
I have hope. My backside will probably always be big, but it doesn’t need to be morbidly so. I’ll always have certain aches and pains from MS, but it doesn’t need to be from being fat.
