"How old would you be if you didn't know how old you were?"
One day, not so different from any other day, you wake up.
Knees are stiff.
Eyes are out of focus.
Back is achy.
It just hurts to be awake.
I think to myself; is THIS how life is going to go from here on out? Wasn't it just a few years ago I could handle just about anything and wake up feeling terrific?
Aging is not easy. And it's funny; we don't really think about aging until we feel it inside ourselves. It makes me wonder about people my grandparents age. The perspectives and the history and experience all conspire in different ways for different people. The aches and pains and difficulties could certainly and for good reason slow you down to the point of not wanting to move, surely. And few would begrudge you that at 85 and older, it might just be that way and it's ok. Society seems to accept it.
Then there are some people who as long as they can move are making the most out of their time; traveling, enjoying their lives. That is what I want to be. Or I don't want to be alive.
I feel like in the last 5 years I have aged so many more years than that. I don't enjoy as much as I used to, in general. I find myself being more negative. I am angry, virtually all of the time, angry. I feel overwhelmed. Tired. Beaten. I loathe going to the lab every day.
How can I be ok with what mediocre results I have when those before me made so much of what I look forward to possible out of sheer hard work, determination, and stamina through difficult times? Am I just weak and undeserving?
How can you possibly enjoy aging when it feels so awful to wake up and look at yourself in the mirror and be so utterly disappointed and unsatisfied with what is looking back at you?
One morning at a time, I suppose.