I wrote last week about ageing ungracefully. It was mostly about the physical side of it. Or at least the aesthetic side.
Of course I realise ageing is about far more than our physical selves. We often hear about those who gain new leases of life after middle age, or those who go on to achieve great things… struck by inspiration.
Lydia (Where The Wild Things Are) commented on the TV show 63 Up (UK version of the 7-Up series) recently and coincidentally I’d watched it as well.
She suggested the ‘check-in’ every 7 years seemed to ensure those involved analysed (albeit not in a scientific way) their life more than most of us as they had to dissect it (again, not in a scientific way) for their interviews.
I have been walking this earth for 51 years. Well, 51 and a half really. And I think I’m finally starting to accept that I’m ageing.
Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think my life is over. I know people achieve all sorts of things in their 50s, 60s and beyond. Indeed I know 70-odd year olds who are certainly healthier and fitter than I am.
But I think for a long time I’ve been in denial that I am ‘middle-aged’.
Almost the end of the month AND the financial year here in Australia. As I’ve only worked for a few months this year I have my fingers crossed for a tax cheque which will make a nice change. And keep me off the streets (ie. pay my mortgage, electricity and hefty brownie-mix bills) for a while.
After dipping a little mood-wise earlier this month I’m feeling much better** so….
I shared something from A Life in Progress on my Facebook page recently. I didn’t like myself much I said. And I didn’t mean it in a glib, “I hate my thighs” kinda way. More in a, “I have weaknesses or bad habits I’m aware of but haven’t overcome,” kind of way. Indeed I’ve written before about my propensity to ‘play the victim’ and of course the whole pity vs envy thing.
I withdrew a little from an online chat group earlier this year. A friend and I sensed the group had become distant. Of course because I make everything about me (in a good and bad way) I decided it was my fault. I’d been whining too much, I decided. I was too negative and just too annoying to be around.*
I was chatting online with a friend about stuff and we were talking about that fine line. The one which I often cross despite being conscious of its existence.
I’d vented a little ( 🙄 ) on Facebook about a couple of jobs I’d applied for and not gotten as well as the frustration of job hunting in a regional town with limited opportunities.
I was having a conversation with a friend on the weekend and she said she’d been trying to explain to her 7yr old son, the concept of ‘looking stuff up’ or ‘research’ before the internet (and before google). She was planning, she said, to buy a hard-copy dictionary so he could learn how to use one.
We were reminiscing about our own childhoods and the encyclopedia we soooo relied on for homework and the like.
It’s a couple of months since I’ve done one of these checking-in posts and I must confess it’s probably because I’ve had little news to share.
Central to everything is of course the job hunt, so I’ll start there…
