To all my female friends of “age”…
Most of us are going through the next stage of our lives.
We are at that age where we see the wrinkles, gray hair, extra pounds. We see the pretty 25 year olds and sigh. But, we were once 25 too, just like they will one day be our age. What they bring to the table with their youth and zest for life, we bring with our wisdom, experience and good hearts.
For all we’ve been through earning each gray hair… raising kids, bills and ills and whatever else life brought you/us over the 30s, 40’s, 50’s, we are survivors… we are warriors… we are women.
Like a classic car or fine wine. While our exterior may not be what it once was, it is traded for our spirit, our courage and our strength to enter this chapter of our lives with grace and pride for all we’ve been through and accomplished.
Never feel bad about aging. It is a privilege denied to many.
It has taken me 30 years and I am sometimes it’s like a Spiritual-Gandi-like transformation. I am far from perfect but every now and then I see wisdom coming out of my brain. Then I turn to see a burning bush telling me, “Go now, teach your flock what you have learned.”
I think I need to write this piece more for myself than for anything else. When we are not wanted, when we are told it just isn’t working out anymore, and you go your separate ways…those ol’ wheels in that noggin start to turning. Then you may start to thinking and questioning yourself. Like, what is wrong with me.
Hopefully you are not like me. Let me tell you a little secret about myself. During the downfall of my marriage…ha! which was the entire time…I spent A LOT of time in the mirror. Looking. I would put on that make-up like I was auditioning for Ringling Brothers. The more he cheated, the harder I looked in the mirror.
I didn’t see it as a character flaw in him, that maybe he was a lowdown-good-for-nothing-dog-in-heat. I saw me as not good enough. What can I do to keep him from straying. What does she have that I don’t have. Why can’t I be more like her. And let me tell you I had the opportunity…lots of times to see the gargoyles that he cheated on with me. That is when my mind would really go in circles. Wow I must really be horrible.
I remember one time my husband looking at me and just start busting up, and he told me, you have a funny shape. He laughed at me! I broke down, he broke me down. I never heard that I looked nice, or that I was sexy. I heard laughter, my flaw was so comical that he couldn’t help but laugh out loud. He wasn’t laughing because a certain piece of clothing made me look funny, he laughed at my body. I remember looking at this skirt at the swap meet and he laughed, “you don’t have the body for that, let’s go.” Or he told me, that my butt was like an old typewriter, flat and wide. He said it while he let out this belly laugh. He shamed me about part of me. I have had numerous surgical procedure.
I just wished…if only I were more beautiful, a better body etc etc because then I would be enough… Really?
Hale Barry was cheated on, Jennifer Lopez was cheated on…now come on I could spend a million dollars on surgeries to try to be Barbie beautiful and that doesn’t guarantee me a loving and loyal man. My outside don’t mean a thing, yeah it sure is gonna get me and man, doesn’t mean it is going to keep a man. Catalina needs to work on the inside and make sure she loves herself cause if she ends up with another cheating a-hole, she needs to be confident enough and love herself enough to not say, what is wrong with me. She needs to be able to say, what is wrong with you…HIT THE DOOR YOU JERK AND DON’T YOU COME BACK NO MO NO MO NO MO! HIT THE DOOR JACK AND DON’T YOU COME BACK NO MORE!
I heard a saying,”What if you were to believe you were enough…would that be bad…no my dear! It would be BY FAR the BEST GIFT YOU COULD EVER GIVE YOURSELF!!! Magic would be possible and all things would fall into place.” Let us love ourselves just the way we are right now!
Cheating men won’t stand a chance against you! HA HA!! What doesn’t kill us make us stronger, stand a little taller….
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