I was at a wedding Saturday with a lot of women in their 20s and 30s in sexy dresses, their youthful skin aglow. And even though I was 20 or 30 years older, a little worse for wear, a little tired and overwhelmed by the loud music, I was smiling. I smiled with a secret Cheshire-cat smile of pleasure and relief in being older ~~ 49 and changing, which even I would have to admit is no longer extremely late youth. But I would not give you back a year of life lived.
Age has given me what I was looking for my entire life ~~ it gave me ~~ me. It provided the time and experience and failures and triumphs and friends who helped me step into the shape that had been waiting for me all my life. I fit into me now ~~ mostly. I have an organic life finally ~~ not the one people imagined for me or tried to get me to have or the life someone else might celebrate as a successful one ~~ I have the life I dreamed of. I have become the woman I hardly dared imagine I could be.
There are parts I don't love ~~ until a few years ago, I had no idea that you could get cellulite on your stomach; but I not only get along with me most of the time now, I am militantly and maternally on my own side. Left to my own devices, would I trade this for firm thighs, fewer wrinkles, a better memory? On some days. That's why it's such a blessing I'm not left to my own devices. Because the truth is I have amazing friends and a deep faith in God to whom I can turn.
I'd give up all this for a flatter belly? Are you crazy? I still have terrible moments when I despair about my body. But they are just moments. I used to have years when I believed I would be more beautiful if I jiggled less ~~ if all parts of my body stopped moving when I did. But I believe two things now that I didn't at 30. When we get to heaven, we will discover that the appearance of our butts and skin was 127th on the list of what mattered on this earth. And I know the truth that I am not going to live forever, and this has set me free.
Eleven years ago when my friend, Pammy, was dying at the age of 37, we went shopping at Macy's. She was in a wheelchair, with a wig and three weeks to live. I tried on a short dress and came out to model it for Pammy. I asked if she thought it made me look big in the thighs, and she said so kindly, "Annie, you just don't have that kind of time." I live by this story.
I am thrilled for every gray hair and achy muscle, because of all the friends who didn't make it ~~ who died too young of breast cancer or AIDS. And much of this stuff I used to worry about has subsided ~~ what other people think of me and of how I am living my life. I give these things the big shrug. It's a huge relief! I live by the truth that NO is a complete sentence. I have grown up enough to develop radical acceptance.
On the day I die, I want to have had dessert. So this informs how I'll live now. I have survived so much loss, as all of us have by our 40th ~~ my parents, dear friends, my pets. Rubble is the ground on which our deepest friendships are built. If you haven't already, you will lose someone you can't live without, and your heart will be badly broken; and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of a beloved person. But this is also the good news. They live forever, in your broken heart and that doesn't seal back up. And you come through. It's like having a leg that never heals perfectly ~~ that still hurts when the weather is cold, but you learn to dance with the limp. You dance to the absurdities of life; you dance to the minuet of old friendships.
Younger women worry that their memories will begin to go. And you know what? They will. Menopause has not increased my focus and retention as much as I'd been hoping, but a lot is better off missed. A lot is better not gotten around to. I know many of the women at the wedding fear getting older, and I wish I could gather them together again and give them my word of honor that every one of my friends loves being older ~~ loves being in her 40s, 50s, 60s, 70s.
Look, my feet hurt some morning, and my body is less forgiving when I exercise more than I'm used to; but I love my life more and me more. And, like that old saying goes, it's not that I think less of myself, but that I think of myself less often; and that feels like heaven to me.
Obviously by the notation at the top of this page, this was an Article from O Magazine by Anne Lamott. However, I would love to sign it:
Lessons Learned ~ Lots of Love,
Jocelyn
