So. Hey there, Fifty-six! This is you, huh?
I remember when I thought fifty anything was as old as the dinosaurs.
A few more lines in the face, skin that doesn't snap back as readily, a challenging waistline, little aches and pains in the knees every now and then, hair in places I didn't notice it before, intolerance for unnecessary noise and clutter, and tolerance for foods I swore I'd never eat, are marking the milestone I quietly celebrated yesterday.
A few more lines in the face, skin that doesn't snap back as readily, a challenging waistline, little aches and pains in the knees every now and then, hair in places I didn't notice it before, intolerance for unnecessary noise and clutter, and tolerance for foods I swore I'd never eat, are marking the milestone I quietly celebrated yesterday.
Fifty-six. I still have my smile and my song.
I refuse to apologize for doing what I know is right. When people show me who they are, I believe them.
I have embraced "No".
I know how important it is for me to take time for myself, and continue to do the things I love.
"Take a selfie" I told myself. "Find some color and put it on".
"Take a selfie" I told myself. "Find some color and put it on".
I suddenly felt very grateful and thankful.
"You made it. Keep going."
This has been a challenging year, but there's something about looking back and realizing you're still present, and in possession of your sanity, that makes all of the drama disappear.
There are still busybodies trying to undermine and minimize my efforts as a caregiver; silly, deluded women vying to be my new stepmother; people scheming and trying to fracture my immediate family, and thinking their antics are going to move me, but all of their shenanigans have failed. (One day, I'm really going to write a book.)
This has been a challenging year, but there's something about looking back and realizing you're still present, and in possession of your sanity, that makes all of the drama disappear.
There are still busybodies trying to undermine and minimize my efforts as a caregiver; silly, deluded women vying to be my new stepmother; people scheming and trying to fracture my immediate family, and thinking their antics are going to move me, but all of their shenanigans have failed. (One day, I'm really going to write a book.)
I'm loving my new take on confrontation. I'm no longer afraid of it.
"You have a reputation you know!" my Dad told me.
I laughed. "I know, Dad, but only among people whose opinions don't matter. They're amusing to me. I don't care if some user or con thinks I'm mean, or unfriendly. Boundaries are important. Some people are too familiar. I don't play with devils or dogs. I have no tolerance for people who target seniors, or anyone who's vulnerable. What would make anyone, who's tried to take advantage of you, think I would trust them, let alone like them, want to entertain them, or be happy to see them? All of those "Miss Hilly's" should be very tired by now".
Good Lord, I'm 56. I must be. I remember the time I wouldn't have said any of that.
In spite of the negatives, the positives are tremendous. I'm grateful for the thoughtful people who keep in touch; who keep me connected to my passion; who've been caregivers before.
I'm especially grateful for those who are helpful, sensitive, considerate, and supportive. They get it--the whole of it. They know how something as simple as going out for a bite to eat can brighten a day.
"You're still here" I told myself. "That alone is something to celebrate. Any time the enemy and his human cohorts fail miserably is a good day. You're stronger, clearer, and more direct. You're embracing your discernment. You're finally accepting that just because you're nice to others, it doesn't mean they'll be nice to you. It's painful to acknowledge, but not everyone is in your corner--and that's okay. You now know who is for you."
My sister and nephew stopped by, and brought some of my favorite things. Yes. There was popcorn. It really made my day. My littlest nephew handed me a tiny package. "I already have one, Nessa, so I want you to have it." I opened the package and it was a tiny troll doll. She was smiling, and her bright eyes and confident pose made me smile. You couldn't tell her she didn't have it going on. I hugged my nephew. I know what a sacrifice it is for him to give up a cereal box toy.
"You're still here" I told myself. "That alone is something to celebrate. Any time the enemy and his human cohorts fail miserably is a good day. You're stronger, clearer, and more direct. You're embracing your discernment. You're finally accepting that just because you're nice to others, it doesn't mean they'll be nice to you. It's painful to acknowledge, but not everyone is in your corner--and that's okay. You now know who is for you."
Before he left, he looked at me and said, "Happy Birthday, Nessa! You look really young to be fifty-six."
(He can get whatever he wants from me...lol)
The little things really matter. I'm grateful for life; for people who care; for another day to get it--whatever it is--right.
(He can get whatever he wants from me...lol)
The little things really matter. I'm grateful for life; for people who care; for another day to get it--whatever it is--right.
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