Privilege Denied To So Many

I am learning to embrace growing older. The grays arriving, the wrinkles. It’s not easy. I keep meeting up with ppl who point this out like it’s their job. Awkward. Stupid. Publicly. Maybe they’re just uncomfortable with the thought of aging. Maybe they think it’s not going to happen to them. From where I’m sitting. It’s def happening to them.

Funny thing, the signs of aging. Never have I looked into a face of another and noticed THEIR aging complexion, silver temples and smile lines. I noticed, instead, the way his eyes danced as he told me about what brings him joy. I noticed, instead, the corners of her mouth widening as she recounted how her daughter looked on the altar as she married her prince this past weekend. And again, I noticed his generosity as he paid for my dinner unexpectedly. These, noteworthy. Not appearances.

Not until I noticed the age sneaking up on MY real estate did I start to notice the same on the neighbor’s front yards 😂.  Funny how we can completely blind ourselves to, and tolerate, issues that don’t appear to involve us. And just like that, in the blink of a wrinkled eye 😂 we, too, are obsessed with firming face cream, moisture rich masks, procedures, eye gel and restorative night creme – all because we caught a glimpse of something we deem “old” as we stood, a minute too long, in the mirror. FML

Sure, I see the signs. But hold up. Wait one second! I REMIND myself that I am very privileged and honored. How lucky am I to have made it past 45? Past 50? I’m sure you know folks who were not gifted a long, healthy life. My father was not so blessed. It’s fantastic that I have the privilege to ache, to fatigue, to add to the size of my lady lumps, put on a couple of pounds around my middle, display some grays, wrinkles around my eyes, stained teeth and be asked if I’ll be using my senior discount today 😳. The honor and privilege to let go of the pressure to be young and pretty. Letting go of competing with all the other young and pretties. Time to let go of outward appearances, allowing them to take the back seat to confidence and peace.

(This is a pic of my garden goddess who reminds me to be fabulous anyway. Always)

How wonderful that I get to be here to continue to right the wrongs in my life. To walk away, far away from things and jackasses who no longer (and never did) serve my highest good. I am honored to be able to tie up loose ends and create a legacy to be proud of. To align myself with -and appreciate- the heartful ppl in my life. Especially those who, on first thought, wouldn’t seem worthy of such appreciation.

While I’m still here. While I’m still here. To accomplish meeting ALL the parts of myself and bringing love and acceptance to them before I’m forced to take care of “unfinished business” from the other side. I’m perfectly fine if I look like I’ve lived life. If I look like life was worth living. If I look like I may or may not have been through some shit. A full life. Smile lines and hair shimmering like tinsel on an aging evergreen. Not all plastic and perfect, buttoned up and botoxed. The privilege of caring for an aging body and becoming friends all over again, I bow to this honor. Everyday an adventure, making life count with purpose and intent. Aging brings such wisdom. Freedom.

We’re never going to be any younger than we are right this minute.