Turning A Corner
When I woke up this morning I hopped up on my bathroom counter and got dangerously close to the mirror. I don’t know what compelled me to do it. I usually don’t feel well in the mornings. Getting up close and personal with my face at that early hour had the potential to spell disaster. It was always a good way to start shit with myself, if that makes any sense.
When I sat down I felt the roll of my tummy spilling over the waistband of my pajama bottoms. I paused, waiting for that flurry of self-hatred to well up inside of me.
I didn’t feel it.
I studied the lines emerging around my eyes. The ones right between my eyebrows looked deeper than usual. I waited for that panicked feeling.
It didn’t come.
Speaking of my brows, they sure did look unruly; my formerly striking, perfect arches no longer as obvious as before, hairs growing wildly in every direction. I continued my study. I found grays sprouting up along my temples, and capillaries visible along the sides of my nose, with a few scattered across my right cheek, next to a small scar, courtesy of an epic blemish from my teenage years.
But I wasn’t upset. Something really awesome happened.
I turned a corner.
I felt completely at peace with the image staring back at me.
I looked closer. Despite the realities of illness, my eyes have a certain light in them. The fine lines that reveal themselves to the world when I laugh and smile, and when I cry, are a testament to my experiences, my journey. The slight discoloration here and there is evidence of the good times in my life, tropical vacations and days spent outside in nature. Realizing all of this, I felt powerful. My nearly 40-year-old face is starting to look wise, even distinguished. I never thought of it that way before, until that very moment.
With each passing day my outside self is shedding the younger me. As a consequence my mind is growing richer and acceptance is claiming its rightful place. In the not-too-distant past such observations would have been enough to ruin my day, even my week, holding the power to devastate me on way too many levels, even making me feel unworthy of love.
That’s just crazy.
My newfound feelings are timely. I spent the weekend thinking about my father, now two years gone. Maybe thinking about his passing, his short time here on earth, helped me realize what’s important, that the outside doesn’t matter nearly as much as society wants us to believe.
How do you feel about getting older?
And what positive things do you tell yourself to bring you to that place of love and kindness for who you are, inside and out?
On a totally unrelated note, it is going to be a pleasant day in my little corner of the world (aka Northern California). I woke up to the first rain of the season. I started my day with a perfect cup of coffee. I get to enjoy a cozy day with the pups. Thanks to really healthy eating, taking my vitamins religiously and getting tons of sleep in the last week, my body doesn’t feel nearly as stressed as usual. Yep, I still feel tired, but a weight has been lifted. It’s progress. I want to celebrate this small victory.
I may feel differently tomorrow, but here and now I will hold on to this empowering thought:
Life is ridiculously, positively fabulous.
Make it a great Monday.
Photo Source: http://greenlikebathwater.tumblr.com/