But I Don't Feel Any Older....
Age has never bothered me...well...there was that one year I thought I was going to just die. The year I turned 30 I seriously thought life was over. I got severely depressed. But I got over it. And since then I really don't worry about the number that is my age. I think about what I've accomplished, what I have yet to accomplish, my bucket list, and how I feel inside. Because that's what really matters.
So when the birthday rolled around two weeks ago, it was no big deal that I was a year older. But I get the feeling that people think I SHOULD feel older, SHOULD hate getting older, and SHOULD be depressed. Here's my take on this: I am the same person inside that I have always been. Yes, the hair is gray, and there are some significant wrinkles, but other than that, I'm pretty much the same. Same weird sense of humor, and same crazy thoughts rolling around under the surface, fighting to get out! I am me. That's the bottom line. That doesn't change with a birthday.
For a hot minute this year, when I saw the date, thought about how old I was now, and how many decades I have lived, I thought maybe it was time to grow up and act my age. Well, I got over that pretty quickly! Took me about a minute of howling laughter to get over that thought! Then I spent this past weekend with my Punkins, and I realized that they only know THIS Mimi. They do know I can be very serious if I need to be. (Ask Emily after our trip to the shoe store!😦 God knew what he was doing when he gave me boys! Teenage girls are no joking matter!) But the Mimi they have always known is a bit crazy (hence the name), and likes to laugh and have fun. If I became very serious and didn't joke around with them and be my crazy self, they would think I was sick!
But being a certain age has funny "side effects". I've now surpassed that age where people have any question about whether it's my child or grandchild with me. And some of the responses I get when I get into a conversation with someone about working out or running are pretty funny. I pretty much always get the "good for you!" statement. And I'm ok with that. People don't usually START running and working out at 60. So OK...that's acceptable. My Facebook newsfeed is filled with classmates' pictures of their grandkids, or what they are doing in retirement. Yes, some have retired. And yes, I'm jealous! If I retired, I could go to the gym and/or run every single day, for as long as I wanted. As it stands now, I have to get up at 4:15 to get to the gym before work.
So basically, to sum this up, I don't feel any different than I did on March 4th. Or March 4th of 1980, or 1990, etc. I'm the same person. If anything, I feel much improved over the "past" Linda. I'm healthier, found out I can still run at any age, and can do anything I want with the Punkins. I can race them, I can wrestle with them, and I can kayak with them. Age is a number. Just a number. And it doesn't matter what that number is. That number doesn't define you, describe you, and should definitely not depress you. Be you. Always, just be you!
So when the birthday rolled around two weeks ago, it was no big deal that I was a year older. But I get the feeling that people think I SHOULD feel older, SHOULD hate getting older, and SHOULD be depressed. Here's my take on this: I am the same person inside that I have always been. Yes, the hair is gray, and there are some significant wrinkles, but other than that, I'm pretty much the same. Same weird sense of humor, and same crazy thoughts rolling around under the surface, fighting to get out! I am me. That's the bottom line. That doesn't change with a birthday.
For a hot minute this year, when I saw the date, thought about how old I was now, and how many decades I have lived, I thought maybe it was time to grow up and act my age. Well, I got over that pretty quickly! Took me about a minute of howling laughter to get over that thought! Then I spent this past weekend with my Punkins, and I realized that they only know THIS Mimi. They do know I can be very serious if I need to be. (Ask Emily after our trip to the shoe store!😦 God knew what he was doing when he gave me boys! Teenage girls are no joking matter!) But the Mimi they have always known is a bit crazy (hence the name), and likes to laugh and have fun. If I became very serious and didn't joke around with them and be my crazy self, they would think I was sick!
But being a certain age has funny "side effects". I've now surpassed that age where people have any question about whether it's my child or grandchild with me. And some of the responses I get when I get into a conversation with someone about working out or running are pretty funny. I pretty much always get the "good for you!" statement. And I'm ok with that. People don't usually START running and working out at 60. So OK...that's acceptable. My Facebook newsfeed is filled with classmates' pictures of their grandkids, or what they are doing in retirement. Yes, some have retired. And yes, I'm jealous! If I retired, I could go to the gym and/or run every single day, for as long as I wanted. As it stands now, I have to get up at 4:15 to get to the gym before work.
So basically, to sum this up, I don't feel any different than I did on March 4th. Or March 4th of 1980, or 1990, etc. I'm the same person. If anything, I feel much improved over the "past" Linda. I'm healthier, found out I can still run at any age, and can do anything I want with the Punkins. I can race them, I can wrestle with them, and I can kayak with them. Age is a number. Just a number. And it doesn't matter what that number is. That number doesn't define you, describe you, and should definitely not depress you. Be you. Always, just be you!
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