Aging with grace?

And, just like that I’m a white-haired red head!  This coming of age started several years back, probably 10 years or so, when I realized that my hair simply wasn’t growing like it used to anymore.  And without going into all the gory details, this loss is due to a hormonal imbalance between my next to nothing thyroid and my missing reproductive paraphernalia.  Aging at best.

I was very vain regarding my hair color.  I’d grown up a redhead when red hair wasn’t always the desired color. In fact, it was the outwardly rejected and repulsed color as taunts and teasing would testify, yet inwardly it was the color envied by most. As I began to battle the thinning and losing of my hair I clung to the color of my youth because it was the one thing that caused me to stand out among the crowd and caused others to usually always remember me.  Since I paid the price as a battle warrior (think Disney’s Merida) I was now going to wear my earned crown with pleasure into my adult years of life.

But the aging process began to win. My hair began to thin, and I began to fret.  What now were my options? Should I try a hair transplant?  I had toyed inwardly with this idea for YEARS and then my father brought it up and mentioned he would “help” me if I wanted to investigate it.  I began to realize that since he brought it up, my hair loss was much more noticeable than others tried to make me believe.  My hair stylist said that those she knew who had tried transplants were disappointed over time with the results. Well then, what about wigs?  I visited a salon some years ago and the wig master working the floor stated that I would have to wear full coverage wigs as I didn’t have enough hair to support partial pieces. That was a let down because I just wasn’t ready to wear a full coverage wig. Yet, I kept perusing the many wig catalogs and would order one, try it on, freak out and send it back. Time and again I tried to find my comfort zone against a battle that I wasn't winning.

A few more years went by and I began toying with the wig options again because they were affordable, and the quality and styles improved immensely!  A good friend put me in touch with another woman near my age who opted to begin wearing wigs full-time and looked beautiful in them! So, with a vote of confidence and assistance in trying wigs on, I ordered a few new wigs again all in the color of my youth. But in order to wear them comfortably and without added “heat” to the scalp, I had my hair shaved like a 1950’s buzz cut.  This was a huge step and transformation for me!  I wore the wigs faithfully for a short while, but as soon as I would come home not only did I get my lounging clothes on, but the wig would come off in one fell swoop. The current heat wave prompted my life-change rapidly and without a second thought.  It was super freeing to not have to mess with anything on top of my head!

Slowly I began to get accustomed to the look of my head with such short and blaring white hair! I could hardly believe how white I was and yet I couldn’t look away!   I thought it was pretty, but I didn’t dare leave the wigs off just yet.  How would visiting vendors respond when coming into the office? How about meeting others for the first time or simply going out to eat or church or grocery shopping?  I put an announcement out on FB, declaring to the world of the routes I was taking and backed it up with photos, but also with a disclaimer that this was purely for comfort reasons and not for any impending health reason.  Like a cloak of many colors you’re bound to find me in an array of changes on top of my head. Would I be sporting a colorful red-haired wig or a white-haired buzz? Perhaps a stylish Fedora or head scarf?  One will never know how I might arrive!

Oh, and also as a testimony to aging with confidence, I don’t wear any Spanx! 😜

"I will be your God throughout your lifetime— until your hair is white with age. I made you, and I will care for you. I will carry you along and save you"  Isaiah 46:4 

The Door is Ajar

Remember  the 1980's when Chrysler introduced the talking car? If your door wasn't closed all the way it would say "The door is ajar". That innovative creation stirred up conversations and jokes that lasted a long time! 

A major life change has occurred in my home this past weekend. Cliff left for Florida to start a new life with the woman he loves, Miss E. They've known each other for only nine months or so, maybe a little longer, but have declared their love for each other and plan to make it a permanent promise. Having been through the trauma of divorce, and it is a trauma even in the most peaceful of ways, I pray that their declaration to each other is true and forever. 

There was a time that Cliff was not living with me. When I bought my little house I sent him packing, so to speak. Not in a bad way, but it was simply time.  Not too long after life threw a curve ball and the call came asking "would it be okay if I come and stay with you for just a short time till my friend S and I work out sharing a house? He's going to buy something and I'll be his roommate." Cliff was working at the time and had the best laid plans, and so I somewhat reluctantly said yes. I had just been in my little domicile for one year and longed for "my space" as we've come to love in this country.  As you may have guessed, a few months rolled into many more and just recently became 3 years.  Then Miss E came into the picture and life moved into a new direction.  

So, with a Toyota Camry packed to the gills, off they rode into the sunset in the direction of Florida and I'm alone again, naturally. =) 

Before Cliff left I had to have "the talk". That's the part of recovery that continues to be revisited with many an addict and their family. Boundaries are set once again because deep down we fear getting caught up in the landlord relationship one more time. Cliff was ready to go out on his own, there's no doubt of that. But where the doubt comes in it seems, is in Cliff's ability to see past looming obstacles. Putting down one step at a time in order to achieve a hard earned goal still requires some guidance and encouragement along with a push and a hug. So, in a much calmer demeanor and forthright tone than in years gone by, I simply stated that I wished Cliff the very best that God has planned for him and that moving back home was not an option.  The door will not swing back open, and please leave your key.  There's a sadness in my soul that I have to say that so clearly, yet it's a freedom that has to be laid out for both of us. I'm too old to be my sons housemate and he should have the confidence to enjoy life as it's meant to be.  So the door is ajar; it's open just enough to pay a visit but not open wide enough to let suitcases filled with life struggles that belong to another take up residence in my space.  

I'm grateful once again for working it out with my Higher Power, my Creator, who has walked the walk with me to show me how to live a better life that brings unspeakable peace to my heart.  My life is richer because of practicing the 12 Steps over and over.  

That peace of mind is not mine to own.  You can have it, too.  Ask and seek. You'll find it. 

Picture googled

Second-guess!

"I'll do my best today, without trying to second-guess every word or action."

Like most people these days, I choose to receive a myriad of daily e-mails to help encourage my walk in this life. Some are to help me grow spiritually in my walk with Jesus, others come from recovery based programs, and still others are general topics of encouragement that keep me focused upward in life.  It's so easy to look down, it seems if we don't train ourselves to focus on what is good, right, true and honorable. 

So today, in my email from Hazelden.org the "Today's Gift" came from "Walk in Dry Places" by Mel B.  and the closing line shown above was a perfect gentle nudge to remind me that I don't have to try to figure out or second-guess myself or what others are trying to say. Or what I THINK they're trying to say. I don't like it when others assume they know what I'm thinking or know what I meant, when their assumption is as far from my point as it can be.  I used to drive myself crazy second-guessing if everything I said was co-dependant, controlling or just plain wrong. I was in misery! 

Meeting with Cliff this past weekend for a minute or two was enlightening.  He mentioned how he's finally stepping out of the junkie thinking and applying some of life's most basic concepts.  Hard work generally gets noticed and pays off. Cliff found a job on Craig's List sometime back and that job has continued to lead him to his next paycheck two times now.  This next opportunity may land him into some permanent employment.  It's satisfying to hear his words and know that his life has changed and I no longer second-guess what he's doing, where he's going or how he's spending his money. 

I've learned the hard way to step back and just listen to others. I don't have to tell them I don't agree. By keeping my thoughts to myself doesn't necessarily mean I agree or condone them it just means I'm not in charge of anyone else's life but my own.  I try to choose to back out of conversations that used to lure me in, if it doesn't pertain to me. The best part though, is being free from second-guessing or trying to figure out things that don't belong in my brain space. I don't have room for anyone but my own life issues and don't have the knowledge or ability that the Creator has to re-align someones life choices. 

It's so freeing to be free from all the things that used to entangle me!

All pics googled. 

Addicted Me

The older I get the more I realize that I have an addictive personality of  my own. A few years back Cliff and I were driving home from the store when he spied a bag in the backseat holding a new box of  Little Debbie's Swiss Cake Roll Ups. "Mom,"  he said, "why are you buying those? They can't be good for your sugar."  Usually quite defensive of anyone pointing out my food choices, I reluctantly replied that they just called out to me.  He paused and said without judgment, "I know what you mean. Heroin used to call out to me, too."  Ugh.

When I was in high school, heroin was the rich man's drug but pot and other substances could be found everywhere, including my high school vestibule.  But I was afraid of drugs in any form.  In 1972 I knew of several people who died from drug usage and that was enough for me. Though pot didn't claim those statistics, I was afraid of anything that would alter my  mind and self-control.  I'm so thankful that even without knowing it or knowing God that well, that He gave me a strong sense of 'no' in that particular arena.  He was protecting me and for once I didn't throw all caution to the wind and jump the line. 

Why then, am I now facing my own refusal to acknowledge my need for removal of other forms of substance abuse?  Sugar is my "thang".  I clearly remember being at my cousin Leslie Hamp's 5th birthday party and parking myself right at the corner of the picnic table where a bowl of  M&M's sat unsupervised, calling out to me. All the other party attenders were off playing some games and I wanted no part of that. I was in my own little chocolate heaven until my aunt shooed me away. Ugh. 

Still being a sugar person you'd think by 57-3/4 years old I would have won this battle. Not so. And even with all the issues of diabetes I have, it would make sense to everyone around me to just simply walk away. It isn't that simple as many of you can relate with life hazards of your own that you've yet to kick.  This process always reminds me of the Scripture verse in the book of Romans when Paul says "Why do I do the things I hate?"  Ugh. 

I'm reminded that my life didn't exist simply to raise Son #1 and Cliff. Somehow I saw myself as being their life director and trying to intervene where only God could reach them. In so doing, I continued for many years to ignore God when He was trying to reach me and was beckoning me to look Him square in the face, so to speak, and hear what He has for me.  Love, acceptance, intimacy, goodness, blessing, peace, order, freedom, and unsurpassed joy.  All these things await me as I continue to step fully into the life He has planned for me, which includes well-being and good health. 

As I continue to relinquish my ways and my unneeded help for those I love, it frees me up to connect with myself in a healthy way. Today, I will choose to take care of me, my health and my home all in the freedom of surrendering to His magnificent way.  From despair to hope, I've been set free. At times I feel like I'm just starting again down this path and that's the beauty of 12 Steps and a loving God.  He is always holding out His righteous right hand to start anew and you can practice the 12 Steps over and over and over again. 

Peace. 

Picture from google

Breathing Freely

The human body and mind is amazing. Oh, how quickly we forget the pain!  Well, most of it. When things are going well in the world of those closest to us, we don't call to mind the pain of the past. Usually.

When I look at Cliff today it's hard to believe where we've been. Some of the pictures are fading in my minds eye of his appearance, demeanor and pattern of days gone by. I must admit that I like it that way. I don't want to be haunted by his past or mine, for that matter. I don't like recalling the choices I made that in my ignorance seemed right at the time.

What was wrong with my thinking? It worked for my parents, or so it seemed.

Why couldn't I demand this behavior out of him as respect to me? How come he didn't have the will power to just stop this addiction that pushed him and me all over the place like a schoolyard bully? Why didn't I simply recognize how much the enemy, who masterminded this part of our life, drove a wedge into our relationship with the front runner being heroin. The harder I pushed back the deeper the wedge divided this family, causing all kinds of splinters and cracks in the foundation of our lives.

The reminder of my past is the chaos that still tries to take me hostage. I lived in a whirlwind of emotions for so long I'm finally learning how to step out of it without holding my breath. Just as an addict or alcoholic will step cautiously into their new choices, I am just as cautious. I've often felt as though this tormentor of addiction watched with great delight every time the rug was pulled out from under me. Time and again, it seemed that I would be merrily skipping along the path of life and out from the underbrush someone would grab me by my ankles and whirl me around and around, setting me free to soar through the air and land in a wounded heap. I was anyone's toy for such a long time because I felt capable, able and needed.

Thank God for a program that has allowed me to learn to be still. To not react to every itch, or respond to every word spoken. This program has given me the freedom to walk in my faith better than ever before.



I'm breathing more freely these days and I am so, so grateful.