How do I describe the sound of an alert? It’s not quite a bleep or a bing. A discord alert is a boodledidoop. I had my son send me a text, and we agree it’s more of a bwing bwing bwing decaying echo. These alerts and the foghorn bwaaaah of my clothes dryer perfectly describe my struggle with writing this blog. There are quieter sounds, such as the questions. What am I writing about? Not feeling these prompts. Anti-aging. Oh, you didn’t watch the video about Death being a scam. Blondie is seventy-seven, and Grace Jones is seventy-four. What? Grace Jones had children? Blondie seems so pragmatic. Do I want immortal cockroaches? I’ve mourned a fictional character more than people I know. What does this have to do with me taking responsibility for my life? I am on vacation. I’ve given myself so much homework. Life work. Also, yesterday, I fixed a broken light all by myself. I probably took some courage and inspiration from said fictional character who was handy. Beats spending hundreds of dollars on an electrician. No one is coming to save me. I can ask for help and do have support, but like I’ve learned from struggling children doing homework, there is great satisfaction and understanding from doing it yourself. Look at that. A first paragraph.
Back to anti-aging. I purchased some skincare, and my eldest was offended by the term anti-aging. Most of those products are scams. Why not title them hydrating or something similar? We all age. I agree with them and embrace the changes time has marked on me. I love the sparkle of my silver hair and that the creases of my face reflect that I laugh often and easily. Where is the line between vanity and self-care? I watch my aging parents want to feel useful and productive. I do not believe that when people get older, they should be discarded. Getting older should mean something other than breaking down. I was raised by a generation who believed in caring for and mending things. They also had the skill to sew and repair their favorite garment. How many of us would buy a new appliance instead of repairing it? I went to a car show yesterday, and many vehicles were vintage trucks. The owners sanded down the rust and then varnished the finish showing the age and wear and tear. I wondered what a Kintsugi truck would look like. On another trip down the rabbit hole, I found a car movement that embraced the beauty in our scarred cars. How can I care for and mend the broken parts of my life? Am I broken, or do I have character? It’s all in the mindset.
Another tumbleweed blowing about in my head is the idea of complete honesty. No comforting untruths to cushion the blow. Would the truth have to be a blow? Would the world fall apart if I embraced my inner Bartleby with a simple, “I’d prefer not to”? Would I be able to accept the consequences on a grand scale? I asked my youngest for their input. I should never withhold information about my impending death, but spare their feelings if I do not like their haircut. People are a conundrum. In my day job, we famously have not hard and fast answers and generally respond with “it depends.” Granted, this is the same child who did not understand that silence can be just as hurtful as saying the wrong thing. I took a vow of silence for a day and am not allowed to repeat it. I’ve been on a Missing Persons kick this weekend as well.
“What are words for
When no one listens
There’s no use talking at all.” - 'Words' by Missing Persons
I am ready to tell myself the truth that my self-deprecating humour is mainly an excuse. This week I’ll be mentally telling myself to sod off even if I prefer not to. It is the only way that I will make the change I want to see.
Last week, I realized that I am my biggest obstacle, and the boundaries I need to set and enforce are with myself. Will I respect my boundaries or continue to make excuses and let fear dictate my actions? I talk a big talk in my head. Change needn’t be as radical as lopping off my hair. I have been sorely tempted to cut my hair short. It would not result in the correct transformation and would continue the lies. I would continue the same patterns with short hair. Thankfully, the modifications I need to make can be tiny. It expends less energy to find the courage to make a plan for an incremental change instead of burning the boats at the dock. In the book ‘Atomic Habits’, James Clear notes “Good habits can make rational sense but if they conflict with your identity, you’ll fail to put them into action.” Who am I? Am I an armchair quarterback, or will I get in the game? Am I helpless or someone who takes risks? This Stacy will try new restaurants after reading reviews. She’s not totally reckless with her impulses. I’m ready to embrace my scars, are you? Namaste.
