Just a Number
Last week I was faced with the unavoidable reality of “looking my age”. It was my own fault; I took a photo of myself without a speck of makeup and after working out (gasp!). It was an intentional selfie that I felt compelled to take for a social media piece intended to encourage others in my community to help struggling local businesses. The inspiration came during my weekly outdoor yoga class on the waterfront in my beautiful hometown. I felt awesome due to my post yoga haze. The view across the harbor was spectacular. And I was driven by this idea to do something for others.
After class, I propped myself along the rails and took a couple of quick snapshots from my phone. Glancing quickly at the results, I was satisfied with what I saw. I went home to put the piece together. Upon opening my gallery, I found the shots and looked in horror at the portrait of myself. My face appeared blotchy from my workout and extended time in the sun. My eyes were puffy in the still early hour. There were prominent creases in my forehead and between my eyes. What I saw disappointed me and was a not-so-gentle reminder of my impending 45th birthday.
Yes, it’s my birthday month! Like any other fabulous Leo, making my birthday a cause for major celebration is just how I roll. However, this year, there is a slight shift in the level of anticipation hanging over my birth month. Age has never bothered me before. I have never felt the need to hide it and I generally live by the “age is just a number” mentality. This is very easy to say for someone who (occasionally) still gets carded and admittedly looks younger than a lot of people her age. I thrive in the glory of simply being blessed with good genes. Seeing that picture on my phone made me realize; I am not immune to the inevitable signs of aging.
There are so many ways to cheat the aging process and turn back the visible evidence the hands of time leave on our appearance. Some of us turn to spas or medical professionals for Botox and pricey procedures. Others spend hundreds of dollars on creams and potions meant to tighten and lift those pesky creases age blesses us with. Me? I turn to Photoshop as my personal time machine. With a few swipes of the mouse, 10 years are taken off my face.
So, here I sit, days away from 45 and I am not really sure what it is all supposed to mean or how it is supposed to look at this mid-life point. Mid-life??!! It is mid-life, right? I mean, I better not live past 90. I can’t imagine myself at 90 years old. But then again, I don’t think I can picture myself in my 50s, 60s or 70s either.
Reflecting back, I don’t know if I ever saw life past 40. When I was younger and planning for my future, this phase of my life wasn’t anything I tried to visualize. In fact, in all the visions of the prospective future me, there was never a version with lines, puffiness or droopy eyelids. Therefore, I either assumed I would look 21 forever or there was no reason to look forward to life after 40. As life trucks along, I realize this was an oversight of enormous proportions. Life after 40 has proven to be one I should have looked forward to and will not go down forgotten..
In contrast, if given the option, I would not go back to my 20s or 30s. My emotional state during those 2 decades was a train wreck. My 20s was full of self-discovery and awkwardness. Constantly trying to play games that I didn’t know the rules to and was pretty shitty at acting like I did. Man, I shudder when I recall my ill attempts at flirting and fitting in at 21. And my confidence level, yeah… pretty much non-existent. My 30s are a blur. Lost in the chaos of diapers, detergents and nap schedules. I was a mess of over analyzing life to the point of losing my self-identity. It was my lost puppy phase and pretty pathetic to observe. I was a mother but wanted more. Yearning to be in the glamorous corporate world but unable to commit myself to the idea of a full-time job outside the house and baffled by the childcare costs required to do so.
My 40s have been blissfully different. As I have progressed through the lower end of this 10-year spectrum, a flame has slowly begun to ignite inside me. 45 seems to be illuminating a path I have been searching for and I can’t help but look forward to what lies ahead in the next 5 years.
This transition hasn’t been easy and was often confusing to navigate as I tested the waters of who I was becoming. I knew what I wanted to be – happy, fulfilled, enlightened, appreciated… but it has taken a lot of deep seeded reflection to realize that adding more things and people would not propel me to those aspirations. Instead, I had to flex an old muscle that had been dormant for a long time. I needed to let go of some extra weight cementing me to the same position and occasionally pulling me back a couple steps.
Everything came into place when I adjusted an old vision of how I expected my adult life to look. Even though my path had been diverted from the climb of the corporate ladder long ago, I still held on to the notion of it being my destiny and something I would someday… somehow accomplish. Whether I really wanted that for myself or not was muddled with the drive to not lose sight of my potential.
The continuous cycle of being a SAHM, searching for a job, interviewing, getting rejected, being disappointed and then settling back into my role at home was on repeat for over 15 years. I bought into a stroller fitness program for moms. It didn’t last through the New England winter. I interviewed for jobs in Boston. I decided to stay home. I volunteered my web design skill to local mothers’ groups. I was on boards and PTOs. I volunteered in the classroom. I was in sales at a local gym which turned into a marketing manager position. I decided to stay home again when my salary no longer covered childcare. And last year, I interviewed at a well-known media company headquartered in a neighboring town. That last interview is what helped me turn a corner.
As I walked through the trendy office, I took in the modern bright orange couches and the full paneled glass walls, said hello to the designers gathered around a story board, observed the sales team closed behind an office door as they discussed concepts over a conference call. The walls were covered with shiny, high-end marketing collateral produced by the team and articles of the companies accomplishments. At one time, this was exactly what I envisioned my future workplace to look like. They were the type of people I thought I would spend my days with. But not anymore, I knew it in my heart – right there in the middle of that impressive foyer. This wouldn’t ignite that fire anymore. I had an alarming sense of closure and relief.
I went home and tried to explain this epiphany to friends and family. They dismissed my claims as negativity, assuring me a call would come and the job would be mine. Regardless of their encouraging words, I just knew this was no longer my calling. Maybe it never was. Secretly, I hoped I did not hear from their HR department. If offered the position, I wasn’t sure I would be able to turn my back completely on that old vision of who I thought I was meant to be. When the call never came, there was a new sense of clarity and determination to enjoy where I was in life and faith in my own intuition. Sure, it was disappointing to not feel wanted. But I also knew I didn’t want them either. It was at that moment the cycle ended and I started looking inward. And that is when I began writing.
Writing brings me peace. When I sit at my computer and let the words flow onto a document, It feels as if I have been reunited with a long-lost friend. The kind of friend who lives in the peripheries of your memories, within a time you truly enjoyed being a part of. When the memory is unexpectedly brought back and lands in your lap, you can’t help but feel the warmth of the familiarity embrace you. Initially, writing and sharing my experiences with the world was petrifying. I didn’t know how others would perceive this drive to put my views out there – in such a public forum. I wondered if some would shun me for this openness.
Admittedly, I still question why others would be interested in what I have to say. However, the more I write, the stronger the flame inside me grows. It is exciting! I am being drawn toward something that I can no longer turn my back on and have no desire to do so. I suddenly don’t care if others do not understand why I do what I do and this carries beyond my blog posts. I want to be with people who want to be with me for who I am. What a warm, strong and welcoming feeling; albeit still a bit foreign to me. I know those who truly knew me before wouldn’t be surprised by my perspective on life. Those who have expressed appreciation and gratitude in the solace they have found in my writing are fueling the flame and helping me find my own “why”.
These are the people I want with me at 45 and beyond. My entire life, I have referred to myself as a chameleon. I can morph myself into whoever I need to be to fit in with the group. When I am with a conservative group of academically driven friends, I am demure and pure. When I am with trash talking, free living partiers, my truck driver mouth comes out. I don’t mean to do this, it just happens. I blame it on not really knowing who I was and worrying where I would fit in if I didn’t meld. This is slowly changing. Maybe it is finding that spark I keep referring to or maybe it is age. Whichever… I am loving it. I have never felt more comfortable in my own skin. No acts anymore.
So, if I feel so comfortable and alive, why did I find myself Photoshopping the hell out of a selfie the other day. I know why, it was because I can be as mature and open minded as any 40-year-old but damn if my face shows it. I am human. Hiding the laugh lines with a quick swipe of a blur tool. Smoothing out the uneven skin tones that come natural after a hard work out and years in the sun. Putting a little extra sparkle in my eyes and a little less droop under them. Presto! I am 30 again. There is nothing wrong with that. The tools are out there… might as well use them. Right?
As I close out 44, I appreciate where I have been and where I am going. I am starting to see my life different. I feel a pull to something great. Something big and fulfilling. I feel like I can breathe and be myself around my peers. Some days, I can even post a picture without blurring the creases put on my face from the years leading me to the strong, self-assured woman I am today.
Bring it on 45! And for the days you knock me down and make me feel every one of those decades, I have the tools to filter the image, smooth the lines and brighten the view until I remember; it is only a number.