Working on August’s Monthly Challenge, I am completing my Series “All the World is a Stage ~ and I am Aging Upon It”
I am not bitter or hysterical that it took me three hours to figure out how to transfer the photo stream from my phone to my computer. Oh no, this is such a thrill to see how many hoops my brain can jump through. Why yes, I did figure it out, and then the next day, realized how to do it in 5 minutes. But imagine all the incredibly new and springy brain cells I am creating? Hopefully, the cortisol I pumped during the three l o n g hours that I tried to figure it out on my own, did not destroy more memory and trigger other unhealthy brain chemicals. Just handing the phone over to my 17 year old is too easy as well as too demeaning. I am a grown up. I have fifty years of life experience, I should be able to figure out how to move my freaking photos!
For the last three days, I have been unable to pair my headset to my cell phone. I kept trying to press buttons and pair the device and search for the Bluetooth connection, etc. My 17 year old looked at and turned it off and restarted it. Now it works! Sometimes, we have had to adapt to so much technology and other life changes, that we lose sight of the simple and expect the complex. Isn’t that so true in many areas?
Maybe fifty is the age of the deep learning curve?
As I have gotten older, my skin has changed. It is more thin, more spotted, more sensitive, and hyper reactive. No thanks Mr. Grey, I am already fifty shades of black and blue. Besides, I do not need any more inflicted pain.
We are strong and forthright. When one of our own is down, we rally around her to help carry the load. My knees may buckle, pop, and click — But I have got your back when it is needed. We are a force to be reckoned with.
We are not willing to be false to ourselves or anyone else. We carry ourselves with dignity.
It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. At fifty, I don’t mourn the boyfriends and relationships along the way (although we all Google them for Heaven’s Sake). I mourn the ones that I have truly loved and lost, like my mother and grandparents. I have even lost a couple of college friends. It is heartbreaking to think how young their middle age really was.
I cry because it is my family legacy. I cry because hormones are rampant in women my age (see, isn’t that a great rationalization?!) I cry because I am highly sensitive.
Maybe fifty is the age of tolerance and expression?
In your 20’s, the indefatigable and adventurous will live forever and claim “You Only Live Once” as an excuse for doing crazy dangerous things. At 50, the oft repeated refrain is that “Life is Short.” It is not as catchy as YOLO but it is no less true. We have lived long enough to realize the fragility, beauty and mortality around us.
That’s my story and I am sticking to it.
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