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.



I am struggling to find the words right now but there are feelings to be told.

Feelings of accomplishment, for pulling out of the funk.
Feelings of hope after finding some great reminders of what is important.
Feelings of joy when I am smart enough to focus on what really matters in life.
Feelings of strength as I remember I have the right to live my life on my very own terms.

It’s funny how reading a well written article or a very poignant meme can bring the focus back to where it belongs. That is where I am at right now. Refocusing and gaining momentum.



Feeling confident in allowing myself to be… However I want to be.
Realizing I do not owe explanations to anyone
Love me,accept me, ignore me. I will still be me.

random thoughts on a Tuesday night

Random thoughts floating through my head…

Just because we are friendly doesn’t mean we are friends.

There is a fine line between accepting someone for who they are and enabling them in their situation.

Sometimes you try and break out of your shell, throw caution to the wind… and the universe intervenes.

Being a responsible adult is completely overrated.


Lately I have been outrunning, dancing around, and trying to avoid a little funk that has been threatening me. I am only two steps ahead at best but trying my damnedest to not let it catch me. It’s hard. It’s hard when maybe my heart is still hurting a bit, it’s hard when I haven’t been feeling well. It’s just hard…

If I sit down and get really honest with myself, right now,- as in this past week- I am still stinging from the disappointment of things falling apart. I was over it and now, it’s a lingering, floating pain. Probably need to just cut out the source…

If I am really honest, I’ve not felt, “good,” my entire adult life. I’ve felt varying levels of bad. So for me, if I said, “I’m not feeing well,” it means that I reached a level of bad that I can’t deal with, that is too far out of my comfort range.

Why? Why is a good question indeed.

When my anxiety issues really started to kick in during my early to mid twenties part of the affect it had on me was a general feeling of malaise. There were stomach aches so severe, nausea, etc. Once I got on meds for my anxiety that stuff pretty much went away. Pretty much but not entirely. I didn’t really register the discomfort like I did before, it was so much less that it seemed almost normal. I was comfortable with mild discomfort.

I chalked it up to anxiety and probably side effects from meds. I didn’t really ponder it too much. I also knew that “sensitive stomachs,” run in my family. So I didn’t really freak out over somewhat regular (think monthly) stomach issues. It was just par for the course as far I was concerned. It’s been getting worse over the past couple years and especially this past six months.

Tuesday I finally got tired of it all. Not feeling well, throwing up my breakfast on a somewhat regular basis, just feeling shitty all of the time. I went to the doctor’s office even though I felt dumb and gross for going, for telling him what has been going on. I felt embarrassed when the nurse asked “how long has this been going on?” and my answer was, “most of my adult life.” She asked if I had ever seen a doctor for it before. “Nope.” I was sure she was silently judging me for being a moron. Maybe I was just judging myself. Who knows? Can’t make progress unless you’re willing to risk embarrassment.

The doctor, of course, prescribed more medication for me. However, it is an ‘as needed’ sort of deal, anti-nausea and anti-cramping. It is a godsend and completely bewildering. It is so odd to me, to not feel nauseous. It is so pleasant to eat a meal and not feel horrible. Why didn’t I do this a long time ago? Why did I accept feeling crappy? Because sometimes we accept what we are accustomed to. Of course, I am researching some essential oils to help alleviate my issues rather than using a pill if I can. But I had to go see a doctor, we’ve got a test or two set up, just to rule out bigger issues. Assuming all is clear, I’m going to try and manage my symptoms in a more natural method.

As for the lingering hurt… Well, again, it means I cared. I was open and I was ready. Not everything works out. That is what I need to focus on. I need to silence the girl brain that is questioning what was said, or making excuses for him, weaving a story in my hopeless romantic heart as to why… No matter how I may want to concoct this lovely, fictitious story of things working out in the end, I need to let go and move on.