Try Again Tomorrow

Asleep. I'll be asleep soon enough. I took an Ambien so I'll be sure to sleep tonight. Maybe, if I'm lucky, I'll sleep long enough to awaken rested and full of life and with zest. Not feeling the zest at the moment and I really need some.

Cardiologist today. Testing to make sure everything is alright and to try to find out why I am so tired all the time. You try carrying around an extra 60-70 pounds and see how it worries you out.Hmm. I meant to write "wears you out" and look what I wrote.

To do what I want to do I need vim & vigor. And yet my plate is piled so high with things to do. Things I would normally want to do , but Somehow nothing is feeding my soul at the moment.

Maybe after a good night's sleep.

A Full Empty Nest

Freshman Move In Day at the Dorm

Earlier this week, my husband and I drove 11+ hours to take his son Jordan to college in Washington, DC. He is beginning his freshman year at George Washington University (GW) on Monday. It was an exhausting drive, mostly because we had to turn around and do it in reverse the next day, but it was still fun. And Jordan gets to begin a new life, and Al and I have an empty nest for the first time.

Over the same few days, I wrapped up my first big academic paper in graduate school. I dragged my heals for AGES on that one. "Pulling teeth" is the phrase that comes to mind when I think of how hard it was to dig into that paper. It had nothing to do with the material (which I love), and everything to do with the garbage going on between my two ears. Yes, my brain is a cluster #$%&.

Here is the brain garbage in a nutshell: self-loathing, blah, blah, blah, nobody ever taught me how to think, blah, blah, blah....blah, I can't do this, I have ADD!!, I'm not smart enough, I don't have time for this, I need to make money, I'm about to be 60 for God's sake.....aaaAAARRGGGHHHH!!! (Loud scream heard in the background.) Blah. Blah blah.

But, I wrote the paper. And, I passed. And, my professor liked what I wrote. And, I only used the tiny portion of my brain available to me, so imagine what I could do if I could quiet the Screaming Mimis that take up the majority of the space. (I just looked up Screaming Mimi. It's a piece of German World War II rocket artillery. I love finding out the meaning of phrases I have heard for ever, but didn't realize I understood.)

I always assumed that by the time I approached 60 I would be a Zen Master. Certainly, after all that one has lived through, you have figured most things out and have let go of the garbage that doesn't serve you. Surprise! You are still you. Drat! And, yet, when I entered that dorm room the other day and looked about, I felt in my bones how long my path has been. I do vividly remember moving into my dorm room at the University of Georgia in the Fall of 1972. Everything was in front of me, and yet, I let the Screaming Mimis run over my life instead of confidently putting one foot in front of the other, eager to explore and craft a fine future. I thought, if only I could go back and do it all over knowing what I know now. What a useless mental exercise that is.

In truth, my life has been mine and I have enjoyed the ride: bumps, unending hills, and free falls alike. I'm not planning on going anywhere anytime soon, but over the past year I have, for the first time, come to realize that my time is limited. Will I leave a legacy? Does a plain old person leave a legacy or do you have to be grand and famous for that? It is freaking me out more than a bit to realize that I will die. Who wants to think about that? But, it is a grand thing - this life - if you appreciate the moments that fill it. And, if you have grandchildren, well, what could be more grand?

And so, today I enter my own new phase of life because I woke up. And, tomorrow will be yet another new phase. It's nothing as grand as Freshman year away from home for the first time. But, as I look back on the days that have filled my life since I first walked into Brumby Hall some 42 years ago (gulp) I smile with the weight of experience and continue on, happy to breathe, work, love and play for one more day.

I'd say, "At least I don't have homework anymore," but I do!

One Thing I Know For Certain

Not a darn thing at the moment. But, soon. Very soon.

10 Great Things About Being 59

Picture of a Successful Woman: Kenyan Entrepreneur Njeri Rionge

It happened. Yesterday I turned 59 (at 10:14 P.M. to be exact). As in I am currently in my 60th year of life. I mentioned in the last post that there is a good bit of choice in what happens now. It has been somewhat of a moody week. Work stuff, money stuff. So, putting my money where my mouth is, let me see if I can turn this mediocre mood around by coming up with a list of good stuff instead. And, this is 10 great things for me about being 59. You get to come up with your own.

OK, number 1. This is easy. Grandchildren.

Wait. Before I get into this I need to clear some things out. This can't just be white wash here. I have been down all week. It's hard to put a finger on what that has all been about. One of my family members has been having some trouble so that is upsetting, but I think it will hopefully work itself out. I have been feeling very tired and not keeping up a major organizing spree I was on so things are not quite as neat.

But, I need to find a powerful heart connection to my work that has been lost. There have been times in my life when the passion for my work has run so deep that nothing could stop me. It all sprang from my heart and when it does that there is no doubt, there is no fear - or at least none of the kind that can stop you from doing anything. For the longest time as much as I love my work, I have been constantly telling myself such awful things - like, I can't do it, I should be embarrassed I make so little money. I lost the reason WHY I do the work I do and that is something I simply cannot do without.

I am so afraid of suffering more loss. I thought I had it down pat, like I can handle anything that comes my way. But, then I fell in love with my husband. Then I was lucky enough to have such wonderful grandchildren. When there is so much to lose the stakes get so much higher. I stood in my husband's closet the other day touching his clothes and thinking how awful it must have been for my former sister-in-law when my little brother, her husband, died.

 My little sister died when she was three and my grandson is about to turn three. Not that I think that is any foreboding about him - not at all - but, instead, I thought about my parents and what hell they must have done through. It all makes me realize how much pain there is out in the world. It touches us all. What I don't understand is why it does not makes us kind.

Here I am. Thinking that nobody is going to want to read this, but what am I doing this for? For whom am I doing this writing? Can others relate, and if they can is this at all helpful? I have been in a women's group for a long, long time. It is one where most of us share openly and honestly. People have come in with great tragedies and great sorrows and have shared them. I have watched them work their way through things and it has inspired me and helped me know that I too can make it through life's tough challenges.

This moodiness shall pass. I will stop saying such horrible things about myself. And, when I get to that place I will be unstoppable for a while. I want to be successful. I want to not be embarrassed to be in my 60s by the time I find success. I want to be on fire. What does that look like to me? You know what I want right now more than anything? For the fog in my brain to dissipate and for me to clearly see what I want to accomplish and for whom. What do I see there? Commitment. Certainty. Passion. Determination. Confidence. Clarity. Energy. Focus. Accomplishment. Love.

Hey, wait. That's 10 things! Well, I'll be.

Ah, I See

And then one day it hits you. There's not an infinite amount of time left. That is when you have to decide.  Do I fold? Do I flourish? What do I do with this one life I have? How do I spend this time I have left?  Who shall I be while I am still here? I do get to chose.

Going Underground

Me then. 1973?

I'm not entirely sure how it happened but in a less than two weeks I turn 59. 59, as in just before 60. I am excited. No, really I am.

I stopped writing here for a while because it was not going the way I wanted it to and from now on I want to be honestly me. I was beginning to think in terms of writing things that would attract readers when what I really want is for this blog to be honest if nothing else. Frankly, what I am experiencing as I approach old age (for surely I am not "there" yet) is common to so many of my generation. Maybe writing honestly will be helpful, maybe it will be seen as self-indulgent (look how many "I"s I have to use!), maybe it is inappropriate to share such personal things on the Internet of all places.

The fact is that I am a writer and writing is how I cope and come to understand. That is part of why I am going underground. By that I mean, I am not going to promote this on Facebook or anywhere else for now. I can't believe I am going to say this, but I want to "find my voice." I want to just write away honestly and see what happens. So, people are drawn to the blog or repelled or never even know it existed. Whatever happens is fine. I find this aging thing fascinating and I want to share that.

Last night I looked closely at my hand. In the last 18 months my skin has begun to change. I look at my hand now and see my grandmother's skin. Wow. I was always the youngest at everything growing up. I skipped a grade early on so I was just getting my learner's license when everyone else was driving to school in their new car. I was a very young woman with a child when all the other mom's were a good 10 years older. Then I wake up one day and walking through the mall I am invisible. I look at "the kids today" and they are kids. Yep. It has happened. I am no longer the youngest at much of anything. I am still developing my career and making a life when so many my age are retiring. I am even in graduate school, and, yes, I am the oldest in my class. I have grandchildren which is the most amazing thing I have ever experienced.

So, that's it for now. But, now that I have given up trying to write about things that will interest people and decided to write just what I feel like writing I can't wait to see where I go. It's great being alive in a day and age where you can still begin again at the ripe old age of 59!

Grandmothers With the Spirit of a Grandchild

There is nothing in the world as amazing as being a grandmother.

Do you remember that old line from "When Harry Met Sally"? As Meg Ryan is crying to Billy Crystal about a former boyfriend marrying someone else, she says, "And, I'm going to be forty!" "When?" he asks. "Someday!"

Well, I'm going to be sixty! When, you ask? In thirteen months, two weeks, and….but, really, I'm not counting. Nor am I dreading. What I am doing is planning. I'm planning to be healthier at sixty than I was at forty or fifty. I felt great at fifty, but somewhere over the past 8 years I got hit with the aging stick. I'll get in shape after I finish this whatever, or after we get back from wherever. But, as my son reminds me, I'm not getting any younger, it's not getting any easier, and if I keep procrastinating I'll procrastinate myself right into an early senility/bedriddenness (I'm thinking that is not a real word).

Over the past year or so I have suffered injury after injury (I'm sure I've written about them already, but I forget). Recovery is a bitch, I must say. The latest injury was a torn rotator cuff from pushing a stubborn dog off of the bed. My injury is to my left shoulder, my husband has the same thing in his right shoulder, and the darn dog has yet to budge. But, I have been showing up for physical therapy because I discovered that it really works AND it works a whole lot better when you not only make the appointments, but actually show up and do the work at home like they tell you to do. My posture is amazing compared to what it was two months ago. Not quite as good as my little sister's but she is a freak of nature and has been complimented on her posture for her whole life while I folded over so I could hide in my lap.

Anyway, just going through this last injury and coming out stronger has been inspiring. The therapist said I respond so well to it. That got me to thinking (ignoring the voice that tells me she says that to all of her clients), what if I worked on my entire body?!? I've been searching and searching for just the right something to motivate me and this seems to be my something. I CAN make a change! See, I've done it already.  PLUS, I quit drinking diet Cokes. Now that is about on a par with giving up heroin in my book. One day I consciously focused on the taste and it made me realize that I wasn't drinking happiness.  I was drinking and was completely hooked on a concoction that truly had the flavor of a chemical spill. (But, let the record show I still "jones" for one from time to time.)

I love being a grandmother, but it occurred to me today that I still have in me the spark of a grandchild. Don't we all? Don't you? I am about to be 59 and then, "if the good Lord's willin' and the creeks don't rise", I'll be 60. I want to be able to run up the stairs and skip one every once in a while. I don't want to spend the rest of my life in bed.

Somewhere I read recently that "Sitting is the new smoking." That's got me moving. I have been given approval to start yoga again on my birthday, March 6th. My fantastic PT says I'll absolutely be good to go by then. I'm psyched. Getting older is awesome. I love the perspective. I love the gratitude. I love, love, love the grandchildren. But, I don't love what grandmothers were expected to be like in the 50s, 60s. I mean, if I'm going to have blue hair, it is going to be BLUE, baby!

So, I must get back to my homework, but I just want to say that this year is going to be one where I focus on putting aside my excuses and just being the Nike ad. Yes, I want to just do it this year. One day at a time. I feel bad for those forty-year-olds. Fifty-nine is going to be sweet.