challenges

I'm good at doing. I'm good at sticking to a schedule. I'm good at accomplishing what's on my list. 

But pushing super hard is something I used to excel at but haven't done for a long time. It's not that I don't have the ability or the drive or the desire but in the past I'd push so hard it wasn't healthy anymore. I did it through an eating disorder, through writing a bunch of books, through exercise that was far from good for me. 

And so, for a long, long time, I backed off. 

I'm tiptoeing back in.

It's scary. Overwhelming. Honestly it's unnerving to push this hard and often feel so awful on the other side. But I'm also getting stronger, seeing changes, feeling different on the other side. We'll see where this takes me but kind of cool at 58 that I'm challenging myself in ways I haven't in decades and I'm coming back for more. 

autonomy

Just about every stage of motherhood is challenging in some way, but letting go, as your kids get older and don't need you the way they used to, is the hardest. Or perhaps it's so hard because that's where I am now. 

Accepting that you're not the one to make decisions anymore, that perhaps choices they make won't be what you'd choose, sitting with that loss is uncomfortable at best, gut wrenching in moments, terrifying at times. Your whole purpose in a way, the care taking, the problem solving, the nurturing isn't needed anymore. You can only hope you did a decent job and have sent these beings that grew inside of you out into the world with the tools they'll need to grow more and more independent. That's how it works. Cycle of life and all that .But it hurts and it's lonely to be on the peripheral instead of front and center, to be benched, sidelined, far less important that you once were.Yeah it's great and all that to watch them grown into themselves, to explore and shine as they start figuring it out. And yes they sometimes come back with the inevitable crash and burn, to have their souls soothed a bit, encouraging words helping to set them back in motion but it's not the same. It's never the same. And that's fine but also honestly not fine. 

Looking for the light in losing and I haven't found it yet. On the other hand, the bathrooms are always clean and I'm searching valiantly for velvet swivel chairs—hoping the bright spots get brighter and more frequent. 

rest

I've been working out 6 days a week for months. 3 spin classes, 2 weightlifting days, 1 day of yoga and then one off day. No matter how tired, how burnt out, how overwhelmed I am, I do it anyway. 

Until today.

The past two night I haven't slept well. My body hurts. My head is twinging from fatigue. Yesterday, in spite of all that I went to the gym and did my hardest full body work out ever. Then another rough night and while a super challenging spin class that I really wanted to take was up next, I didn't take it. 

Honestly I didn't feel as guilt ridden as I thought I would. On some level I knew I hit my limit. 

That's new for me and that's a fabulous thing. 

success

I have trouble with success. At least I have trouble feeling successful and proud of things I've done and things I'm doing. I've spent much of my life feeling less than, whether its job related, creativity related, money related, relationship related, friends related. I used to hold onto the comfort in the discomfort as my motto but that doesn't fit anymore. I'm tired of feeling badly about all these parts of me. I'm ready to celebrate the very things I used to think held me back.

Or at least I'm ready to dip my toe in and see what happens. 

Writing every day is part of the toe dipping. 

grooves

 I excel at grooves. I like the comfort and consistency of doing something every day. It’s grounding and satisfying and as someone who works from home without much of a routine, setting any routine is wonderful. On the other hand not all routines stick and I’m never quite sure why some become an integral part of my existence: meditation, legs up the wall, drinking lemon water to start every day and others last for a month or a week or sometimes just a day: no sugar, intermittent fasting, no social media, stretching every day  

Control and no control. Dedication and being lackadaisical. Not sure yet where writing will fit in. I’ve had long stretches where every day writing was like breathing and then others where a day or two in and the urge would disappear. Yesterday I thought about it and the day got away from me. But I’m here today. The plan, the dream, the hope is that this will kickstart a new something. A new project. More creativity. Could be it doesn’t get beyond musing in real time as I figure out what to focus on next.

Next up, walking dogs which is a necessity routine. Protein shake which is hopefully a healthy routine. And a smoothie which has become a routine I should be breaking but I enjoy too much.

uncomfortable

In many ways I'm a creature of habit. I can happily listen to the same music, eat the same types of food, watch the same formulaic TV shows (Drag Race you're my happy place). I'm cool with being content. It's not that I don't do a lot—I excel at busy—but it's often busy without growth. It's been awhile since I pushed myself past my comfort zone and put myself out there. 

But lately the universe has pushed me into uncharted territory. The death of a dear friend. Losing my beloved mom. Kids now far away and figuring out how being a mom works in this different reality. A thriving business that Covid slowed and I haven't figured out how to bring it back yet. High blood pressure and daily medication. The loss of so many friends now that I'm not at protests all the time and figuring out how to find my people. 

Life. 

But there have been baby steps along the way as I tiptoe into places I haven't been before and revisit ones I left behind ages ago. I'm pushing myself when working out instead of going through the motions. I'm painting needlepoint canvasses, which is extraordinarily stressful and I avoid it at all costs for as long as I can but it keeps calling me back. I started writing again after years of trying and giving up quickly (this is only day 4 but at least I'm still here). I'm back in therapy after a 25 years hiatus and already it's serving me better than it did in the past. I'm meditating for real instead of sitting and scrolling through my phone. I'm often uncomfortable, the opposite of complacent which I so often have been. 

Loss. Change. Growth. Discomfort. Challenges. Frustration. Heartache. Joy. That's the cycle these days and I'm working on being present in it instead of pretending it's not happening. 

make up

I never didn't wear make up. I mean never. Ever. I didn't wear a lot: mascara, eyeliner, lip gloss - but without it I felt naked, empty, less than. I faded into the background. My confidence in how looked, how I felt was rooted in those simple strokes which probably didn't make that much of an impact to the rest of the world but to me they were transformative. 

And then, Covid. 

Lip gloss made the inside of masks dirty and sticky so I stopped wearing it. And then one of my eyes started aching and when I went to a nerve-wracking emergency visit to the eye doctor - everything was nerve-wracking back at the beginning of sheltering in, it turned out a clump of old mascara had gotten under my lid and adhered to it like a barnacle. The doctor carefully dislodged it and mentioned how much old gunk was on my lids and lashes. Truth - I never cleaned my makeup off, just added stuff over the smudges the next day. It was honestly embarrassing (as was the time I went back not that much later to find there was a tiny piece of glitter in my eye from a broken snow globe accident) and my eyes were also getting drier and drier so I decided to give them a much needed break and stop wearing make up altogether. 

Amazing how unattractive and how much older one can feel, the one being me, without those subtle strokes of color. I hated looking in the mirror. My sense of fashion withered away. It was a quick slow descent into grey shapeless jumpsuits and feeling my actual age which I generally don't feel. And my eyes didn't feel all that much better either. Lose lose.

Yesterday I dug down into my makeup drawer and pulled navy eyeliner and basic black mascara, casually putting on both. It looked heavy and fake and overdone so I dabbed some away and boom - I looked more like myself that I have in too long. And I looked pretty good which was a delight to see after months and months avoiding my reflection anywhere. The change: I carefully washed it all off last night and today went makeup free because I've learned that even if it emotionally made me feel better, physically my body needs some TLC too. Balance.