In Which I Turn 39
I turned 39 this past week. It didn’t feel as I thought it would, to be honest. I am not what you would consider an optimist. If my nearest and dearest were ever asked to provide words that might describe my character, I am doubtful that, “joyful” and, “delightful” would make the list. I have always been good with that, truthfully. I am steadfast, I am dependable, I am a realist, I am articulate- I am a lot of things. What’s interesting is that I took a deep look at the words that have shaped my identity this week before entering into the last year of my thirties and realized that all of them were words given to me by someone else; or words that have been birthed out of the experiences that have shaped me. Not, necessarily, ones that have sprung up from within.
Some therapists’ advice is to return to the passions of your childhood to remember who you are. That hasn’t always worked for me, either. I’ve always been a people pleaser, it seems. I’ve always taken pride in, rising above, taking what’s handed to me, and being flexible in all circumstances. What I did begin doing this week to usher in a new year of living isn’t really rocket science- but it’s a new practice, for me.
This week, I listened to my body. I know, I know.
That should be base knowledge. It’s not. Not for me. For 38 years I’ve eaten what people have told me was healthy- and felt deep shame when I’ve eaten what’s, “not”. I’ve read books on other, smart people’s lists to remain current and cultured and well-read, even if my brain and attention span were giving me signs that it wasn’t ready to absorb that information yet. I’ve ignored hunger pangs, anxiety attacks, nausea, aches and pains, swelling, and fatigue for a paycheck or a pat on the back for a, “job well done”. I’ve fought through exhaustion and a little voice that I suppose would have been, “better judgment”. I’ve ignored the growing pit of dread when I’ve remained silent- or when I’ve spoken out of a misplaced feeling of obligation. I’ve gotten better at this over the years, but the progress has been a snail’s pace and never consistent.
But this week; this week I listened. The entire week. When I slowed down and listened to the frenetic pacing of my heartbeat, I had a hot tea in the afternoon instead of my usual cup of coffee. I went for a walk when my legs felt restless and my head felt foggy- not to, “get in exercise” for the day. I read old and familiar poetry instead of feeling as though I had to, “challenge myself”. I listened to my heart rate when I felt trapped or panicked and met it with quiet meditations, calls to a friend and writing dreams down on a whiteboard in my office.
Dreams like publishing books. Buying a brownstone on Bank St. in the West Village. Spending a month abroad somewhere in the Mediterranean. Hosting outdoor dinner parties with signature cocktails. Singing on a stage. Owning a bookshop. New Orleans in the Spring. Renovating my kitchen. Swimming in pools. Glasses of cold rose and cups of steaming lattes. Teaching at University.
The more I wrote, the more I had to write- the more I recognized signs of my body stirring.
It was so basic and so relevatory- as all good things are.
I felt rested,nourished, empowered, settled, quieted and stirred all at once. I am here for year 39. Thanks for joining me in seeing how it will play out.
The Things That Gave Me Life This Week List
I didn’t know that tea latte-things were a thing. I’m a coffee drinker through and through and have never so much as glanced at any sort of tea offerings any coffee house had to offer until I began recognizing signs of too much caffeine consumption ON MY WAY TO another coffee shop to FINISH MY BOOK PROPOSAL AGAIN FOR THE 3RD TIME and SEND IT OUT TO AGENTS (please forgive the all caps, but as this took me 3 weeks to actualize, I am so glad it’s done). Upon arrival, I read an offering called, “The London Fog” tea latte and I will never be the same again. Thanks to Scout’s ( my new found favorite writing corner) for widening my horizons and saving my racing, caffeine-induced heart.
My eldest requested her favorite pizza for her birthday dinner and as we are only a day apart, I relish this request every year considering it is ALSO my favorite which means I get TWO of my favorite meal choices in one week. I don’t often eat pizza ( being lactose intolerant kinda kills it for me) but when I do, I make sure it’s worth it. Star Tarvern always is. Thankfully, we no longer live in walking distance which means it has become a special occasion meal ( saving my tummy and our wallets from weekly visits).
April is poetry month. I’ve made the commitment to read and write more of it in the coming weeks in order to honor it. You can find my original offerings and some of my favorites over on my Instagram account.
Fresh flowers in every room is always a dream of mine. Ranunculus’ are my absolute favorites, which is divinely appointed considering my birthday coincides with their arrival. If ever you want to bless my life, I am so easily satisfied with fresh flowers, a bottle of wine and a book. My family made sure I had all of the above this week and it was such, pure joy. I almost wish every week was birthday week.
I HATE green smoothies. Sincerely. I think they’re bizarre. It conjures visions of putting a salad in a blender and I have to stifle my gag reflex. But. BUT. In a moment of panic after I realized I hadn’t eaten anything on top of being incredibly dehydrated and did not have time between traveling to and from meetings to eat a proper lunch, I grabbed the Green Passion smoothie from Panera without a lot of hope. I was wrong. I immediately googled how to make it and found this recipe to be the closest. I’ll be drinking it every day as soon as the weather decides to take a turn.
Alright, friends! Cheers to dreams, old and new. Facing aging with grace and anticipation. Hunting for beauty and listening to our bodies, and accepting that eating our words as we grow older is inevitable so we might as well make the process delicious.
