Practically There

A Particular Peace

Upon the imminent approach, or should I say impending threat, of my fortieth year I have had occasion to reflect on who I am, how others see me, what legacy will I have left behind and what do I want to be when I grow up? Now the cursory and quite clever answers to those questions would, of course, be "Pam, the last time I checked the tag in the back of my knickers", "with their eyes I imagine", "debt, most likely" and "ballerina-fry cook" in that order. Truthfully, after much meditation on the matter the answers are still as hazy as a Savannah sunset in August. I suspect that I am having something of a mid- life quandary. It is just that I simply refuse to believe that 40-ish is mid-life as I have every intention of being fairly animate well past the 100 year mark. (That in mind, I suppose that I should, oh, I don't know; start eating right, exercising or something that would offer some prospect of life extension or a "deferral of post-peak ripeness" as I like to call it.)

To be quite honest the idea of entering the fifth decade of my life is, well, reassuring. First off, I made it this far and while that feat may seem something less than astounding, please keep in mind that I am an accident waiting to happen. This is an idiosyncrasy that my husband used to find endearing, but over the years he has just come to find it - expensive. In actuality, I am scarcely able to traverse the entire span of a throw rug without incident. The thing is that it isn't just physical mishaps that are disconcerting at this juncture; my mind is just not what it used to be, just not up to the day-to-day wear-and-tear of cogitating. Things that used to come so easily like phone numbers, appointments, the names of my children or which foot my shoe goes on are now arduous and lengthy proceedings that involve backtracking, embarrassment and sometimes just making things up as I go along. I will confess that this is not always detrimental. If truth be told I have cleaned a number of cabinets and drawers because I had forgotten just why I had gone into a specific room, I have had lovely conversations with complete strangers because I have gotten myself lost and what's more I am really and truly hoping that I married the correct man. I mean, sometimes he is not all that familiar to me BUT he is quite nice, he's rather good looking and he fixes things that I break, so I believe that I shall keep him anyway, thank you. (Oh, yes, and I also find that I begin to go off on tangents that meander about until I have completely lost the point that I was trying to make!)

Secondly, this comfort that I gained is founded in a sort of mellowing; an easing up of insecurities and self-penance. There has been a certain smoothing of a few rough edges and a finer honing of some edges that are presently and purposefully pointed. Now stay with me on this because I am getting the itch to wander off the point a bit and straight into another tangent. (I also suspect that there will be a lot of alliteration and a metaphor or two so I hope that you are wearing waders!) Here's the thing - there is this book and its title is like a little axiom for my life anyway. The book is titled I am Becoming the Woman that I've Wanted by Sandra Martz, and well, there you go - that's it, BAM! In a nutshell - I am BECOMING the woman that I've wanted (to be)! 'Nuf said. Cripes, it took me 40 years to figure out that it's not the destination; it's all about the journey! So, what? "What" is that we waste all of this time on beating ourselves up because along the way we didn't quite realize OTHER people's ideas of what we were supposed to be or what we were expected to do.

You see, I now realize that I like me. I like me. Everybody together now - I like me. I didn't before, but now I do - I LIKE ME! I like my scars and my stretch marks, they are my history. I like my chin that looks like a bookshelf; it's my great -grandmother's chin and when it juts out everyone is forewarned that I am really ticked off. I like the fact that I scrunch potato chips on my tuna sandwiches (you've got to try it). I like the way that I walk, head up shoulders back and that my little legs get all the distance that they can out of a single stride. I like when my kids throw things back that I have said, like "Look the Devil straight in the eye and spit in his face if you have to," What does that mean? I don't know and I said it! I also like the fact that my kids are just left of center; three completely unique and totally cool individuals that, if they were not my children, I would want as my friends. I like the fact that I am finally realizing some balance in my life; a liquid life wherein I am finding my level regardless of my slope. And I like the fact that "things" don't matter as much anymore. Oh, that's not to say that I couldn't use a new pair of sneakers or a sofa that doesn't sag, but frankly I have yet to attend a memorial in which people reminisce, "Didn't she have great stuff?" or "That bric-a-brac brought him so much peace and joy in his final days." Nope, I have never heard that.

So, with this I guess I begin a new chapter. The voice will be the same but the narrative will be a bit more colorful. To be sure it promises to be a page turning mix of adventure and intrigue, romance and heartache, reflection and action, ecstasy and evolution, fun and field trips, hot and cold, yin and yang, peanut butter and jelly…oh, and the heroine will wear a funny hat… and I do so hope that there is a part with George Clooney, a linen closet and bacon bits.

Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go and turn forty. And frankly, I can't wait!

Hey, but that's just me talking.

"Until you value yourself, you won't value your time. Until you value your time, you will not do anything with it. Or something. I dunno, I was only half listening. Becca said it, anyway. Ask her."
- M. Scott Peck