Thursday, August 20, 2015

45--A Retrospective

Tomorrow is my birthday, and for the past few weeks I've reflected on my forty-fifth year here. I wanted to mark some of the changes I've noticed.

  • I'm not as strong as I used to be. It used to be that whenever I wanted to move the furniture around, I didn't need anyone to take an end of the couch. Not now. I need help, and guess who's strong enough to lift it now? Micah.
  • I can't keep going as hard as I used to. When I do hard physical work all day, I'm hammered at night and am grateful to rest. I never understood that before.
  • My sleep is getting a little more fitful. When my kids were really little, I was an extremely light sleeper and would awaken to the smallest sounds. Then I went through a period where I slept much more soundly. And now, I've found that I waken a few times a night and can't go back to sleep as easily. I've heard this is a symptom of aging, but I hate to admit the truth. 
  • My eyes are changing. I had read that eyes start changing around the age of 40 (when many adults start using reading glasses), but those who are nearsighted often prolong the need for reading lenses. Over the past few weeks, I find myself removing my glasses so that I can read. Strange . . . but I'm sure this is only the next step.
  • Along with my eyes, my body is getting a little softer, a little more sensitive to food, and a little stiffer and achier. A new lingering pain has lodged in my left ring finger that I can't quite pinpoint, and I wonder if it's the beginnings of arthritis. Now that I type it out, that sounds like I'm so OLD!
  • While I still love design and shaking things up around here, my motivation is dwindling. I now see how the term "Grandma's house" developed. When you get to be a grandma, you just don't care as much that your rooms are painted the latest colors or that you redid your bookshelves.
  • Nothing in life means more to me than my family. All I care about is FaceTime chats to Idaho and Provo with my little grandkids and their parents, hugs and game time with my own kids, and letters from Peru. 
  • Brad and I have always had a good relationship, I think--one of mutual understanding and security in being who we are. Lately, though, I've found my heart turning to him in a way that I can't explain well. It's comforting to know we have years ahead together.

Wow. I sound like an old lady--not sleeping well, eye issues, hand issues, and rolls and rolls of pictures of my family to show anyone who'll listen. I think I'm beginning to accept that I'll never be what I was when I was younger, and I'm hoping to find that stable spot on the teeter totter that is middle age. I want to enjoy it as long as possible.

Ew. I cringed as I entered that term, middle age. Then reality hit me a little. If you live to 92, that's plenty of years on this earth. That also means that you have 46 years of life left to enjoy, appreciate, learn, grow, and be. Sounds pretty good to me.


  1. Welcome to the club. Ain't it grand!

  2. I could relate to this post, but it also made me chuckle because when I had those same complaints at 45 I never imagined how youthful I still was in every way.

    At 63, I am probably noticing problems that won't even seem like anything in 15 years. Assuming I live to that advanced age…