I don’t feel my age.
Besides the bottoms of my feet hurting when I get out of bed sometimes, I don’t feel my age in my body. I don’t always feel it mentally, either. I feel as rebellious and curious as I did in my early 20s but with more self-assuredness, which came in my late 30s. I still want to go dancing and get into adventures. I still want to try more mind-expanding drugs and see what’s out there. I still make playlists. I do, however, want to be home by 11 pm.
I just bought a night light on Amazon for my stay at my boyfriend’s parent’s house for Xmas.
His parents live in a charming old house in a quiet suburban neighborhood. The bedroom I have to stay alone in (they’re full-size beds, and my BF is 6’5, so he sleeps in his brother’s old room) is the first one at the top of the stairs. If you know, you know. I think I’m more afraid of the dark now at 4X than when I was 16. Plus, it is pitch black and silenttttt in that house at night. I’ve stolen the bathroom nightlight for a few visits now, figured it’s time to elevate my night light game with a dimmer. I blame this on the chokehold that True Crime has on my life.
I’m not that far away from the dreaded 54
Matthew Perry
Lisa Marie Presley
John Ritter
Elizabeth Bathory
My grandmaMy stepdad
All people who left this world way too early at the age of 54. That age has always haunted me like a goalpost. I think I’ll pass it, though.
Lost 2 good friends this year.
Losing girlfriends at this age is rough. It knocks you off balance. You become untethered. Sort of floating around trying to find something, someone to hold on to that feels as familiar. These unfortunate events might be a good thing. Maybe what or who I find next is equally as important. Maybe the uncertainty is the point.
I have a better grasp of my value now than more than I ever have.
At work and in my personal relationships, I work hard to maintain them. I put in effort, and I know I’m irreplaceable. I also know how to say “no.” That’s a good feeling. toot toot.
The movie “Leave the World Behind”
I heard it was divisive. People loved it or hated it. Some found it disconcerting. I felt oddly calm about the ending, probably because I think (and dream) about the end of days a lot, almost in “preparation.” I feel like a weirdo about it, so I don’t talk about it often. I just wrestle with feeling really fucking utterly blessed and happy yet equally unhopeful about the near future this society is dictating simultaneously. It’s a mind-fuck.
I hate the term “middle-aged”
YUCK. It’s been co-opted by the AARP and backache jokes. But I don’t fit into that square. It’s so strange not to have many examples of what life could look like at this age, especially if you’ve actively and conscientiously chosen not to have children. I keep trying to find my place in it. It’s uncomfortable but empowering, I guess. I get to discover and navigate it as I go along. However, if you have good examples of badass, successful, happy, child-free (by choice) women in their 40’s, send them over. I could always use the help expanding my neural pathways, ya know?
I’m afraid the older I get, the more invisible I become.
I plucked a gray hair out of my chest the other day.
That’s it. That’s the thought over and over on repeat.
My mom had a 21-year-old daughter at this age.
Wild.
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gray hair deserves its own post, me and my unruly adhd brain thinks at this very moment. i love reading your words!