A friend recently sent me this note. I want so badly to be as free as the person who wrote this. It’s a daily struggle to not care what other think and to not order my daily life around hiding or covering a part of me (both physically and mentally) that someone else may find ‘unattractive’… I wonder if I my heart and mind were so critical of others when I was young that maybe this is my penitence for that behavior… At this stage in my life, I try so hard to not judge or be critical, not only outwardly, but more importantly, not in my heart. I try to give everyone a clean slate when I meet them, one that is not mired by a person’s looks, family or financial situation, or how many tattoos or piercings a person may have… If I can give that much leeway to someone else, why can’t I give it to myself?? Another area that I am definitely still working on, however, is that once a person (even one who is totally clean cut by society’s standards) does something rude or hurtful to someone I care about, I have a really hard time forgiving that person. If the transgression is against me, I have no problem “letting bygones be bygones” and moving on; but if it’s against someone I love, well… let’s just say this is an area of constant struggle for me.
Anyway – back to this wonderful note that a friend sent:
“As I’ve aged, I’ve become kinder to myself, and less critical of myself. I’ve become my own friend…
I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.
Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 AM or sleep until noon? I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 60’s and 70’s, and if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love… I will.
I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the jet set.
They, too, will get old.
I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten. And I eventually remember the important things.
Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when somebody’s beloved pet gets hit by a car? But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.
I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turning gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver.
As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think. I don’t question myself anymore… I’ve even earned the right to be wrong.
So, to answer your question, I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert every single day (if I feel like it).”
whatever life throws at me... 