What I thought I knew: When I was a child, adults were huge and much older than myself. They wore grown-up clothes and could drink a glass of wine and best of all, they could surprise me. The definition of older was clearly defined by the limitations placed on myself as a child by my parents. They could say yes or no and formulated the routine events and recreational opportunities of my life. I recall crossing the big street from my Kindergarten to my house at age 5 and being sternly yelled at by my mother. She must have been frightened - it was a four lane road and I was too young to cross by myself or make that decision. At age 5, we moved from Pacifica, California to Northridge, California. Our family began to spend vacation time with the people I knew as "Mark and David" and their parents. We hiked and played and waited for our parents to wake up from naps to fix dinner. At age 14, we moved to Salt Lake City, Utah. I remember thinking that I knew quite a lot at age 14, being comfortable in the San Fernando Valley with all my friends. Changing schools and states made me feel like a freak, a label I finally decided was acceptable. At age 17, I graduated from high school and in the fall, went to college, where I turned 18. My 18th birthday and the chronological beginning of adulthood was marked by the piercing of my ears, a gift from my roommate, Beth.
The In-Between Years: I remember the first time I thought of myself as an adult. It was several years after moving to Boise, Idaho when I was 30. Our family was joined by a family from Seattle for Thanksgiving at my home in Boise. We had very small children sharing the table with us and I realized that We Were The Parents! We could define the holidays, make decisions about where to live and how to raise our children. I was still thinking of myself as a person about age 18-20 with a few years of experience behind me but not having earned the thirty-something title I had chronologically acquired. Chasing children around began to make me tired. I could not follow them around the playground and I have never slept through the night again. I was not feeling physically or emotionally much older, except now I knew why my parents napped in the afternoon.
What I know now: I have reached middle age, the fifties decade. It shows in my hair, which is curly and has silver highlights. Aging began for me sometime in my forties when the aches of the week never left and became the expected norm. What was also unexpected, was the weight gain. Your body betrays you as you age, leaving permanent marks detailing when and where you have neglected yourself. Working out three times a week and adding cardio twice more is my physical insurance policy towards watching grandchildren marry and graduate. Emotionally, I feel things more strongly but I am more comfortable with what I feel-except my chronological age for dealing with other people's anger is still about age 10. I have always been a forgiving and accepting person (well, that is my definition...) but I now balance acceptance with appropriately expressing my discomfort. By discomfort, I mean, letting you know when I'm angry with you. Actually, that needs some experience, practice and recognition, so I'm probably in my twenties in terms of expressing myself.
Advice for today: At this age, I recognize how important it is to find out what I want to do, make plans and then follow through with whatever I had planned. When I was 20, I had no idea what I wanted and sometime in my late forties began to wonder if I would get everything done!! By the way, what is your everything list? Mine included writing this blog. Hope you got to this sentence, because it's the last one.
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