the other side of the sugar-free aging menopause coin

I spend much if not most of the time looking at the bright side. It's the complete opposite of how I've been for most of my life - expecting the negative runs through my blood. I'm a child of Jewish superstition and cringe when someone talks too positively about anything as if that will incur the wrath of mystical forces and something dire will soon be in the horizon. I still mutter kenahura under my breath and fervently hope ill will hasn't been set in motion. 

Ok so I haven't completely let go of old habits. They run deeper than most things. 

But, my glass is generally half full. I spend time every day saying quiet thank you's for the blessings in my life. Grateful is my usual default mode. 

I work to bring that to my aging/ menopause process. And much of the time I'm pretty successful. I can eek out positive aspects and silver linings. 

But not all the time. 

Deep down I hate that there's so little I can do. 

It sucks that I leak pee. That my elbows are covered with fine wrinkles. That even giving up sugar doesn't shrink my middle in the least. That I feel self conscious in funky stores. That I have to do foot exercises every day so I can walk after wearing cute shoes. 

That my kids will be on their own soon. 

That I bemoan harsh winter days and can appreciate why people move south.

That I have sinus problems every when the heat comes on. 

That I'm supposed to take hard to swallow calcium pills not once but twice a day. Something I never remember. 

That turning 50 means a colonoscopy, an eye exam, increased scrutiny and expectations of illness. 

That gas expulsion keeps increasing. 

That I grasp for the simplest of vocabulary words. 

That my motivation and drive are nothing compared to what they used to be. 

It's not that I've abandoned my positive outlook but it's not always quite that clear cut. Feelings about aging aren't black and white, they're literally grey.