15 3 / 2012
14 3 / 2012
You know, I just turned 34. It’s fucking WEIRD how it feels to age. I never really feel out of touch, but I know that I am so completely NOT IN TOUCH with the youth culture. Somehow I don’t care, which is a blessing, particularly when I see so many 30-somes living their lives in desperate fear of being dubbed uncool. I’ve just been letting it all wash past me in waves of blissful ignorance. I know that where I’m at in my life and my job, I just don’t have the energy to chase the cool, and I am perfectly okay with that. I’m so much more consumed with chasing a free moment to crochet something or, heaven forbid, take a bath, that it just doesn’t mean anything to me.
Getting to that point was a slow process of becoming who I am as an adult, I think. A gradual erosion of all of those little bitty fears, until I’ve come out smooth and weathered like sea glass. Don’t think that means there aren’t still major issues hiding on the inside. They’re just much more ingrained, like “will I be just like my mother?” and “what kind of mother will I be?” Those’re the striations in that sea glass.
Back to the aging thing. Here’s what’s really weird to me on an objective level: I still think of myself as young. I think of myself as a girl, but by all logic, I really can’t call myself a “girl” anymore, right? No matter what Tori might think about it. I’ve got a daughter, and I’m looking head on at what is pretty clearly, actually middle age. I am actually a woman. And I’ve learned many of those lessons. There were a lot of them.
I’m not afraid of being a woman rather than a girl, I just can’t comprehend that’s it’s actually happened to me. Maybe that means it hasn’t? (Heh. That would be nice, wouldn’t it?) This seems like a sort of arrested development. Maybe it has to do with the fact that there are so few rites of passage in our lives anymore. Maybe it’s because I still can’t get my mother to respect me as though I’m an adult. Or maybe I’m regressing! It’s entirely possible that my MS diagnosis at 19 completely stunted my emotional maturity. Anyway, I’m getting much too caught up in this question, because it’s got enough layers underneath for at least a full season of In Treatment.
The other thing that’s funny about aging, at least as it happens to me, is that those things that happen that make you so upset you can never really look back at them without feeling shame, well, those mellow with time. But so do the joys, and that’s the thing I’m grieving over these days, I think. I want to learn to keep the joys. I’m even willing to keep the shameful things forever, even at nearly full-strength shame levels if it meant I got to keep the joys, too. This is far more important to me now that I have a daughter than it’s ever been before. I don’t want to lose the heartswell I get whenever she does something amazing. Although in saying that, I think that I’ve probably done my husband a disservice over the past 11 years, in not holding those moments between us as precious enough, because I didn’t realize that when trying to forget the bad things, the joys we’d shared together would get lost, too. And I regret that a great deal. When you start running from things, you wind up running from everything.
The other thing that bothers me: why don’t they make the shoes I liked when I was a teenager anymore? Just bring back grunge, already. We had comfortable shoes back then.
That was literally 20 years ago, too. See? It’s weird!
Oh well! I’m gonna keep my red hair and leopard print, I think. Beatrice will just have to learn to live with the embarrassment.
12 3 / 2012
All of them having to do with my having multiple sclerosis for the last 15 years, but still attempting to live as though I don’t. Spent approximately 3 weeks of the last 6 in bed, and the rest was spent trying to catch up on work and laundry.
I am better-ish now. Anyway, I’m pushing on and starting my veggies soon, so I might as well get on with business. (Note the attitude I referenced above. Maybe the ONLY way to live with MS for a long period of time is just to continue on as best as I can without getting too angry.)
I’ve been imagining my life as a series of clips from the best movies ever—this is something I do frequently, apparently, and it’s a new realization about myself—I have to go with Monty Python on this one.
I looked MS in the eye and said “All right. We’ll call it a draw.”