Young Adult Me Vs. Middle Age Me: How Time Changes A Person

Time does change us. There is no denying that. When I reflect back on my young adulthood, I often giggle to myself. I empathize with people who are just coming into their adult lives.. it's a time of great power and little experience in how to wield it. This is a top ten list comparing young me to the (shhh...almost) forty me.

1. Young Me: I have a voice. I am free to say whatever I want. I can swear loudly, yell at others, announce my stance on every situation EVER.
Older me: I have a voice. I use it when I see that my words are well thought out. I don't need to swear or yell, because people don't really hear me when I do that. I have personal opinions about many issues, but it's OK to not try to conform everyone to my beliefs.

2. Young Me: I am going to feel this way about something, forever. I can't believe people do this or that. Can't they see their mistakes???
Older me: I feel this way about something, right now.. but I know that experience and interactions with people can make me change my mind because I may see many sides to a situation instead of one. People make mistakes, so do I. It makes us better people..it's OK to let them work it out and learn from it.

3. Young Me: You hurt me, I am done with you.
Older me: I have hurt you, please give me a chance to fix that..and I will do the same for you when the shoe is on the other foot.

4. Young me: My childhood was terrible, my parent's choices will cause me pain forever.
Older me: My childhood was terrible, but I am not a child. I can choose to learn from those bad experiences and shape my future to be what I want.

5. Young me: People in a position of power only want to abuse it and me. I will fight the system any way I can.
Older me: Some people in a powerful position do abuse it, but it's not fair to judge a whole group of people based on their actions. Laws are often in place for a good reason. Not all of them! But some of them.

6. Young me: I use my words to complain about unfair laws, political events, and the absence of civil rights.
Older me: I use my voice, my hands, my feet, and everything else I can, to seek change. I am involved in my community. I vote. I give my time and finances to causes that I feel passionate about.

7. I laugh at or judge bad decisions that younger and older people make. I am at an enlightened age.
Older me: We are unified in that we ALL make choices based on our life experiences. I may be able to see a better way to do something, but I realize that I learned best when I had to figure it out on my own. Perhaps, if that person asks for help, I will get the opportunity to do so.

8. Young me: I will do what makes me happy. I will behave in a way that I see fit.
Older me: Sometimes what I want does not benefit the people around me. I understand that there is a time for thinking about myself and a time for being selfless. Extremes of either one is not healthy.

9. Young me: I love receiving gifts, I think about THINGS more than I think about the moments I have with others.
Older me: Things are impermanent. Memories are forever. No material item has ever made me as satisfied as time spent with another person. Giving makes me happier than receiving....always.

10. Young me: I feel immortal. I have so much time left.
Older me: Every second is a gift. I must honor each day I have with those I love, because I am not promised another.

Hopefully, I will have the opportunity to revisit this in another decade. This was not a bragging post or a shaming young people post. It was a post to reflect on how much life changes as we grow.

Suicide, Why It's Not Your Place To Judge.

This is not a fun thing to talk about.

Robin William's death has left people reeling. One glance at the media, social and otherwise, leaves one with images of a man that made so many laugh. It is tragic. There is no denying that. Losing a precious soul is always tragic, whether it be from natural causes, an accident, or suicide. 

Suicide brings up so many questions for those left behind. Why? How did I not know? Could I have stopped them? These questions are normal. It is absolutely normal to question your role when someone takes their life. It is a normal part of grieving the loss of someone you loved. 

What is not OK is judging the person who took their life or the family and friends that were part of their life. 

I have seen posts about how Robin Williams' family should have done something to stop him. How it was a waste of life and talent. That it is wrong. That suicide is not a solution to a temporary problem. Depression medication is to blame. I feel compelled to shed some light on these types of judgments. I am not asking you to agree with me, I am merely asking you to open your minds to what it's like to have depression. 

Imagine yourself in a dark tunnel on a train that is moving so fast that everything outside of it is a blur. Every now and then you see the train hitting your loved ones, hurting them. Now imagine yourself laying on the floor of that train. Every inch of your body is tired and hurts. You can see the lever for the brake out of arms reach, but your body does not have the strength left to pull it. 

When a person is truly, clinically depressed..this is their existence. 

One day after another of feeling like they are hurting those around them. The guilt is unimaginable. There is no question of how the world is a better place because they are in it. They feel like a freight train who is taking out everyone in their path. They are not pretending to be martyrs. To them, ending their life is an act of love and sacrifice to stop their own issues from hurting others. I am not demeaning the impact of a suicide on those left behind. Not for a minute. Their pain and loss is tremendous and sad. I am only asking you to look through the eyes of someone who is considering taking their life. These are thoughts that they struggle with every day.

Add to that the feeling that they no longer have the strength to live with their own pain. This is not weakness. Quite the opposite. People who live with serious depression are some of the strongest people I've met. Their battle is not one that is external, something they can escape from. It is internal. Ever present. They are waging war against their own thoughts and feelings on a minute to minute basis. Add to that the physical symptoms of depression. Your body hurts from head to toe. It is like you are being beaten by an outside force, every day. 

For those who say that suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem, I ask you to learn about the pervasiveness of mental illness. Sometimes their is no solution. Sometimes, someone can get a glimpse of light and find strength to keep going. For others, they never see that light. Existence becomes one of survival, never really living life...just getting through another day.

I am not condoning suicide, or asking you to condone suicide. It is not our decision to judge. It is not our place to tell a person that they are a waste, or that they are bad because they don't want to suffer and they don't want their loved ones to suffer. 

It is important to honor a person's life, not judge their death. There is so much more to a person that that single moment when their life is suddenly over. Find the beauty they brought into the world. Thank them for that. 

I am asking you to put aside your own feelings for a moment and to acknowledge a person's pain for what it is. 

Empathy. That is all I am asking of you. 

Balding, Diapers, and Karma

Disclaimer: You are about to read some real life, gritty, TMI kinda stuff. Turn away now if it offends you.

This is not a rant about aging. I appreciate the fact that I am still alive and kicking. Maybe not kicking so much as dragging one leg behind me while flailing the other...but I digress. Seriously, as much as I joke about getting older, Kendrick and I still laugh about it.

Kendrick has been on a kick about growing his hair out "one last time." He started balding several years ago, and a day hasn't gone by that he hasn't pointed it out in one way or another. ( and men say women are vain) He spent most of last year with a shaved head, claiming that he had given up the fight. At some point this summer he decided to give it one more chance. His obsession with the balding became even more prevalent. Every day asking, "should I just shave it off again? Does it look ridiculous?" To which I replied, "grow it out a bit longer, maybe the thicker parts will cover the thinner parts as it gets longer." Also, "you're driving me freaking crazy with this" may have come out of my mouth a time or two.

Tonight...

I think I sealed the deal when I was running my hands through his hair and I noticed a new balding spot in the back. Maybe it was the audible gasp. Maybe it was the fact that I kept leafing through the same spot like I was looking for lice. I tipped him off though, and when he asked what I was looking at... I told him the truth.

One would have thought that I had just announced that his back hair was on fire. He jumped up so fast that I was thrown backwards. "Take a picture of it..right now!!!" So I did. With Flash. I decided that the flash made it look worse than it was so I took another without it. "That's it! I'm shaving my head!! How could you let me walk around like this?!" As if I was to blame for his hair falling out faster than a tree loses leaves in the fall? "I don't know.." I said. "This is the first I've seen it."

I may have been laughing at his reaction.

"Take a picture of the front, I want to see it for what it is!"
"Ok, ok...hold on..let me just turn the flash off.."
"DO NOT turn the flash off! Just take the damn picture!!"
"Okay, if that's what you really want. I'm just saying, it looks worse that way."
(staring at me with disbelief on his face) He calmly says, "Just. take. the. picture."

I held my camera to my chest with a death grip. I knew he was going to blow his lid. (and what hair remained)

"Show me the picture."
I may or may not have been laughing hard. I show him the picture.
For some sick reason, the look on his face made me lose it. Here I am, showing my husband that his hair is falling out. A sign that he's aging...and I start laughing so hard I choke.


Karma is a bitch sometimes.


I peed myself.

A year after my hysterectomy, my bladder fell. All the sinew and organ that held it into place all of my life was gone. Leaving my bladder in a sad, droopy state of affairs. So yes, I have spent years doing kegals and pelvic floor exercises, but my bladder is floating around in there just bouncing off of other things. It's not supposed to do that. It needs support. (kind of like my increasingly saggy boobs)

I remember a time when laughing didn't raise the red flag of "get yer diaper on, you're in for a wet ride." Any woman who has given birth to a big baby or has had a traumatic birth, knows that things just aren't always right after it. A sudden cough may cause you to squeeze your legs together in hopes that you can keep from dripping. Yes, I said dripping. It's not a pretty thing. It's real life.


So there we are. Him lamenting his hair loss and me peeing myself. Growing old together doesn't get much more real than that.

He's shaving his head as I write this. No more to worry about what his hair looks like.

And I solemnly swear to not sit on anyone's lap while laughing.