Birthday blues and all that jazz
'17 Again', the movie poster announces and I laugh at the timing. 38's around the corner and 17 looks pretty tempting!
Having suffered from a chronic Peter Pan syndrome all my life, birthdays post 30 have pretty much been occupied with tearing of hair and gnashing of teeth, although I've had to take it down a notch recently – somehow replacing crowns and caps just isn’t that much fun anymore.
Okay, I'm gone take it on the chin(s) – time to take stock and see how bad the situation is.
Granted, I'm not queen of the world as per my plan at age 6, but, I do have my own little world in which I am loved and adored, short temper, flabby arms and all. Okay, not a bad start.
I don’t have the adrenalin pumping excitement of being on the race track (horse/bike/car – anything was fine at 10) but I do have heart stopping moments, albeit when watching little baby steps being taken for the first time, or the first word being spoken by my daughters, not to mention their first go on roller blades!
Hmmm, things are actually looking good in the 38 column! Come to think of it, it's such a relief not to have to go into hiding just because I have a pimple, because I know there's more to me than just that. And guess what? It took me a long time to figure this out, but SHOCKER, everyone is actually, seriously NOT just looking at you and how you look. Really! Turns out they have their own lives and worrying about who's looking at them to do as well! C'mon 'fess up, isn’t it such a relief not to have to pull off that hair pulled artistically across the face to hide the pimple look? Not to forget the 'invisible' plaster that drew 10 times the attention the bare pimple would have!
Oh the trauma of bad hair days …… when it wasn’t fair to expect any normal human being to want to be seen with you, forget about talking to you, I mean, just LOOK at that hair man!!! Clearly, you were not going to get anywhere in life on that day, looking like such a loser.
I actually feel a little sorry for my younger self now – so confused about who she is, so insecure about the future and what decisions she needs to take, so dependent on the trappings to showcase who she is and what she can do……
It's suddenly not too hard to turn on the light and take a good hard look at myself in the mirror. There's a woman who has lost that girlish glow, but has gained a more confident aura instead. She stands tall (well as tall as possible at 5' 3") looks herself in the eye and says "This is me. And I know myself. I know what I'm capable of and the inner strength that I discover when it's needed the most, for me and for those around to tap into. I know where I'm heading and it is so darn great not to feel the confusion and fear of stepping into the future I felt at 21, when the world seemed so vast and scary. I know there are still a lot of surprises, pain and heartache in store, but I also know I'm strong enough to take them on. I know God has a plan and I don’t always know what it is, but if I wait long enough it will be revealed. I am loved and needed and have a family and friends in whose lives I make a difference. I am somebody. May not be the person I dreamt I would be at 17, but this is not bad at all."
Wow! 38 may just turn out to be quite bearable after all. I don’t think I want to exchange this new-found wisdom and confidence for all the fear and insecurity of my younger, cellulite-free days (and Michelle Obama offers me hope in that area as well – hope is still alive post 40, oh my arms!!).
As I turn away from the mirror and turn off the light, I make a little note to myself – next year may be I'll change that bright white light to a softer, kinder, yellow one…..
Having suffered from a chronic Peter Pan syndrome all my life, birthdays post 30 have pretty much been occupied with tearing of hair and gnashing of teeth, although I've had to take it down a notch recently – somehow replacing crowns and caps just isn’t that much fun anymore.
Okay, I'm gone take it on the chin(s) – time to take stock and see how bad the situation is.
Granted, I'm not queen of the world as per my plan at age 6, but, I do have my own little world in which I am loved and adored, short temper, flabby arms and all. Okay, not a bad start.
I don’t have the adrenalin pumping excitement of being on the race track (horse/bike/car – anything was fine at 10) but I do have heart stopping moments, albeit when watching little baby steps being taken for the first time, or the first word being spoken by my daughters, not to mention their first go on roller blades!
Hmmm, things are actually looking good in the 38 column! Come to think of it, it's such a relief not to have to go into hiding just because I have a pimple, because I know there's more to me than just that. And guess what? It took me a long time to figure this out, but SHOCKER, everyone is actually, seriously NOT just looking at you and how you look. Really! Turns out they have their own lives and worrying about who's looking at them to do as well! C'mon 'fess up, isn’t it such a relief not to have to pull off that hair pulled artistically across the face to hide the pimple look? Not to forget the 'invisible' plaster that drew 10 times the attention the bare pimple would have!
Oh the trauma of bad hair days …… when it wasn’t fair to expect any normal human being to want to be seen with you, forget about talking to you, I mean, just LOOK at that hair man!!! Clearly, you were not going to get anywhere in life on that day, looking like such a loser.
I actually feel a little sorry for my younger self now – so confused about who she is, so insecure about the future and what decisions she needs to take, so dependent on the trappings to showcase who she is and what she can do……
It's suddenly not too hard to turn on the light and take a good hard look at myself in the mirror. There's a woman who has lost that girlish glow, but has gained a more confident aura instead. She stands tall (well as tall as possible at 5' 3") looks herself in the eye and says "This is me. And I know myself. I know what I'm capable of and the inner strength that I discover when it's needed the most, for me and for those around to tap into. I know where I'm heading and it is so darn great not to feel the confusion and fear of stepping into the future I felt at 21, when the world seemed so vast and scary. I know there are still a lot of surprises, pain and heartache in store, but I also know I'm strong enough to take them on. I know God has a plan and I don’t always know what it is, but if I wait long enough it will be revealed. I am loved and needed and have a family and friends in whose lives I make a difference. I am somebody. May not be the person I dreamt I would be at 17, but this is not bad at all."
Wow! 38 may just turn out to be quite bearable after all. I don’t think I want to exchange this new-found wisdom and confidence for all the fear and insecurity of my younger, cellulite-free days (and Michelle Obama offers me hope in that area as well – hope is still alive post 40, oh my arms!!).
As I turn away from the mirror and turn off the light, I make a little note to myself – next year may be I'll change that bright white light to a softer, kinder, yellow one…..
Agreed totally. The best is yet to be!!!!. Cheers.
ReplyDeleteAgreed Totally. The best is yet to be!!!!. Cheers
Agree Totally. The best is yet to be.!!!. Cheers
ReplyDelete