Reinventing Yourself After 50 Ain't A Cakewalk

Look at this big - eyed fish swimming in the sea oh
How it dreams to be a bird swoop and diving through the breeze
So one day caught a big old wave up on to the beach
Now he’s dead you see beneath the sea is where a fish should be

But oh God
Under the weight of life
Things seem brighter on the other side

Discernment. Again. Damn. Like the big-eyed fish I want to be a bird, and fly this broken body. I want to be 25, be a better daughter, lover, wife and mother, actress, cowgirl, princess of suburbia... You know what they say, wish in one hand, shit in the other...

So again, reality sets in, and I know I have to accept the things I cannot change, and change the things I can. Shame on me, I think I had given up on wellness of late. I'll just be a miserable wretched cripple and take refuge in my goddess cavern, eat chocolate and hoard cats. How dare that become boring! I have books, a loving, patient man who does the cooking, but the bubble burst. Again. Dammit it is hard to start over, again. Pain blows goats! I didn't sign up for this bullshit! Sigh... Fine, what next? Here I insert Facebook post about wellness. Ta-da! ------>

Ok, so I have spent the better part of the last month researching nutrition for auto-immune illnesses. For every bit of controversial evidence of treatment, contradiction can be found. So screw it, I change very slowly, don't normally jump on anyone's bandwagon, and am beginning with some logical premise. My body is too acidic. This isn't rocket science, I can't remember when I didn't have acid reflux really, I know that it was prior to age 18. My mother ate Rolaids like candy, and I bought giant bottles of Tums. Then I ate Tagamet and Librax etc... Anyway I answered some test type questions, and I have most of the symptoms, so I am going to try and turn my body chemistry more alkaline. The next order of business was to find a respected nutritionist, who advocated for an eating style that I could follow. Something that doesn't suggest monkey knuckles or raw seaweed. I ordered a book off Amazon because I need to own it if I am going to follow it, and I'm all about cheap used books. This method also addresses inflammation, another logical reason for joint pain.
I jogged some laps in the pool today, a first step back on the fitness train. I have to log in the exercise time, along with the food diary that i keep at the weight watcher's site. I haven't been using it, and I am paying for it, in so many ways besides financially. Baby steps. It's the best I can do as a start.

So, what else? Reinventing is a process. It's about me, and how I fit into my little corner of the earth. Pharmaceutical drugs are never going to heal my body, nor my brain for that matter. My life is more than half over, and the physical quality is not good, hasn't been for the dozen years since the first car accident. I have to return to what makes me better. Fitness, meditation, contemplative prayer. My spark has grown so dim. This isn't where I want to be. So I will curse the darkness, AND light a candle. I cut my hair short. I'm getting a half-sleeve inked on my upper left arm, something I've wanted for a long time. I want to be the new improved me. I want to dance. Regularly. And make my husband learn new ones with me. I want to go back to group classes at the gym. Have energy again. I have to believe these things are still possible. I ain't no big-eyed fish. I'm a bad ass bitch. Give me back my sword, this game ain't over yet!

I Yam I Said

I am, I said

To no one there

And no one heard at all

Not even the chair

I am, I cried

I am, said I

And I am lost, and I can't even say why

~Neil Diamond I Am I Said

A few years ago, I was speaking on the phone with an old friend from jr high school. She was a year younger than I, and she remarked how she was always jealous of how confident and together I was, as was my best friend, a year older than I. My first impulse was to laugh maniacally until I could only cry. Me, in the 8th grade, was one serious hot mess. I muttered a thank you, I think, and marveled on perspective.

Awkward, vulnerable, moody, secretive, hostile, child in a woman's body, all the characteristics of a 13-14 year old girl, plus both remarried parent's marriages having growing pains. The parent I lived with during the week, my Dad, his second marriage was having death throes. I became a real feminist that year, and never looked back. The boys didn't quite know how to take the tom-boy girl they grew up with morphing into a newly minted butterfly. I struggled to answer that who am I question.

Who I am has evolved, devolved, soared and plunged, sometimes in the same day, since I was 14 and trying to discern who, what and where. Now I understand being comfortable in my own skin. I have survived those adult milestones of losing my parents, an unexpected retirement, cancer, disability, rearing children to adulthood. Now we do the two-step dance of discerning our marital roles in the empty nest days. I never get to stay comfortable in that skin. I get that old time feeling, the pull of servant leadership again. I wish to hide, like Jonah, and bargain like Burt Reynolds in the movie, "The End". God just pooh-poohs me with a wave of his fingers, and says go right on out of your comfort zone, bring some light to those in darkness, feed my sheep. I grumble, roll over and clamp the pillows on my head. Send me to something easy, okay? No drug addicts, homeless, mentally ill, prisoners, convicts or the dying, okay? I feel that maniacal laugh coming on again.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yec4lDknpmg