Growing older tends to alarm people. I see it in the people younger than myself even, hitting milestones like 25 or the dreaded 30. I see it in people older than myself as well. There is this insane value we seem to place on age. There is a saying that floats around the internet to the effect of, “Don’t be upset by growing older, it is a privilege denied to many.” I think that is where our focus should be, rather than on a number and trying to make it into this big, scary thing.
I am currently 33 years old and I find myself more comfortable in my own skin than I ever was in my 20’s. A lot has changed for me since then. Sure, I think back to my late teens and early 20’s. I think about how ‘fat’ I felt when I was far from it. I think about how much I put myself down in my own head when really, I looked pretty great. I did have more energy back then but perhaps it was because I was more active back then. Despite whatever good I let slip past me in my younger years… I can’t live life in reverse. I need to celebrate where I am right here, this moment. This moment happens to be mostly awesome. In my 30’s I care less about what other people think, whether it is about my body, my actions, my life, my decisions. Sure, the opinions from my sisters can get under my skin faster than anything else and when they are cruel to me (or I interpret their words/actions as cruel) it effing hurts.
However, I am at a point in my life I could never fathom before. When I was younger the idea of say… Working in the yard, unshowered, no bra would have mortified me. People could have seen me that way. Now, to be frank, I don’t give a shit. I have even walked my dogs through my neighborhood unshowered, no bra, teeth not brushed, hair a mess and not cared. Those times, those experiences are not about looks its about doing and being. It’s about enjoying some exercise with my dogs. I’m not trying to impress anyone.
I hardly ever would have left the house before to meet up with friends without make up. Now, who the heck cares? To see me in full make up is the new rarity. Sometimes I miss it, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror all made up, because it makes me feel good. Usually though I’d rather not spend the time on doing my make up.
So what are my challenges now? Well as I struggle with anxiety and facing a probable diagnosis of IBS, I’m realizing I need to change my lifestyle. I am very sedentary. I am not an active person. I eat way too many processed foods and my portions are usually too large. From everything I read about anxiety, depression, and IBS some of the best things I can do for myself is MOVE and eat healthier, as in REAL FOODS.
The side benefit would be I will get back to a shape I want, which isn’t such a bad thing. I have always had an affinity with the number 33 so I’ve felt for the past couple of years that 33 will be my year. It is time that I claim the life I want for myself, actively, not passively. I’ve had stomach issues for years, most of my adult life if I think about it. I’m finally sucking it up and having scary and/or uncomfortable discussions with my doctor about it. I’m at a point where I am tired of not feeling well. I am tired of being tired. I am tired of living my life through a screen, watching other peoples’ lives unfold. I need to get up and move, go out and do, educate myself and find what it takes to feel good.
Today is a new day and in honor of that I forced myself out of bed at 8:30am even though its a day off from work. I drank a full glass of water within minutes of waking. I made myself some coffee and while I waited on it to brew I did some push ups off the kitchen counter and stretches rather than sitting on my rear end. I cooked eggs within an hour of waking to fuel my body. I’ve walked the dogs and did some much needed weeding in the one flower bed. Now, as I finish this blog entry, I am off to drink my third glass of water and start some tidying in the house. It’s a new day and I am taking a new approach to my life.