Old Age

Old age appeared like a puff of grey smoke. She thought I wasn’t paying attention. Indeed I was not paying her much attention. I was nursing my baby Fira in the dark and strategically holding a cellphone, watching Netflix, so I wouldn’t disturb her with the light. The show was on mute but I was engrossed, ignoring my senses.

Old Age poked her head in, slid in. At first she was meek and shy moving about. It reminds me of when you open your friends door to her house and call out. No one answers but you walk in anyway checking each room to see if your friend is there, seeing how she has decorated and adorned each room.  This is Old Age. She spent the early days investigating the new space. Seeing what I have done with the place.

Three years later she has made herself comfortable on the couch. I think Old Age is in pajamas. Hanging out. Waiting to get called into action. She is leaving dishes around the place, not vacuuming or picking up her things. It is getting a bit annoying. I have not asked her to clean up. I pretend she isn’t there right now. Soon though. We need to talk and take action.  Her presence reminds me that things are going to change soon.

Advertisements

Happy Birthday

It is dark. My eyes have no need to open yet but I know it is dark. I hear Craig’s light breathing. He is still in bed so it is before 6:30 a.m. Today is my birthday. I don’t want to be aware today. I want to keep myself separate from the day. I will acknowledge happy birthday greetings but I don’t want it to stop me. Today feels like a day that could stop me. Cake and happy birthday songs seem like a halt in my energy. I need to keep moving. This is a strange thing to say because I don’t feel I have being physically moving very much at all. Some part of me must be, because I feel I don’t want to stop.

My cell phone is resting beneath my shoulders, tucked between my mattress and the frame of the bed. I reach for it and check messages. A few happy birthday greetings already via Facebook and some private messages.

The temperature, minus 22 degrees Celsius. I seem happy to see 22° on the 22nd of February. I feel it’s a good omen for all these twos on my 42nd birthday.

I feel the need to get up. I roll over. My shoulder and lower back and neck resisting the movement. I push myself up, my body pinches and a quick flash of pain spans my body. I walk to the door, feeling for the softness of my pale pink housecoat I wrap it around me and feel an instant soft warmth.

Quietly I open the door and slip out into the Hall closing the door behind me. The bathroom with the scale is just the next door down but as I slowly walk there my thighs rub against each other and I am caught off guard by how uncomfortable it is. They are rubbing into each other so deeply. What pain. I must walk with my legs apart. This is new. They have been rubbing together for a long time causing me to wear pants all the time but this is worse.  This is much worse.

Today I’m going to weigh myself. It feels like a beginning. A begining where I try to care. Where I try to take action on my life. I want to know how I’m beginning this year. I go pee and pull out the scale.

Weight is 172lbs.

Waist is 39 in.

Hips are 41 in.

Chest is 37 in.

While I measure my head is still seeing the number 172. I’m a 172 lbs! I can’t believe it. I never thought I would ever be this heavy unless I was pregnant.

Today’s the day I begin my journey. I need to get healthy again. I need to find my strength. I am so internally lazy that I don’t even care about my weight or pick up a pen laying on the floor. I ignore it all.  Today is the day. It is time to take control of my life. Kettlebells and yoga. Here I come. I miss thin me. I miss the me that could move and not be in pain. I miss the me that coloured on my father’s bald head. I miss the me that was spontaneous, fashionable, fun. It is time for me to find these versions of me and bring them back.

“Wanting to be someone else is a waste of the person you are.” – Kurt Cobain

I need to celebrate who I am. I came to this version of me for a reason but it is now time to go home. This is my journey home. What lays unconscious in my mind is that I have been gone from home for a long time, almost three years. Some things may be different.