Hi!
By the time I sit myself down to write the ramblings for next week, I will be 53. It's weird, because, although I, of course, am aware of my birthday every year, I find that each year I have to actively do the math to remind myself as to which birthday it is.
On one hand, there are days when I feel every single year. The bones and joints often make enough noises to start some strange beatbox girl band. The insomnia, hot flashes, supercharged PMS, brain fog, well, really, all of the fun that accompanies the whole menopause thing seems to take great pleasure in threatening my sanity. The days when these things rear up, especially if they do so simultaneously, yeah, these are the days I feel every...single...year.
On the other hand, there are the other days. The days spent with my hubby, days filled with empty nest adventures. The days I get to spend creating worlds that will, if I'm lucky, tickle the imaginations of kids and adults alike. The days of spontaneous photo shoots, wherein nature grabs my attention to the point of completely losing track of any sense of time. The days spent surrounded by kids and grandkids. These are the days the years can't reach me.
When I look in the mirror, I see the story of my life printed upon my body, upon my face. I see the evidence of four babies in four years, the effects of breastfeeding those four babies, the residue of sleepless nights, the loss of loved ones, the worry and stress over health, money, the weight of every decision that either has helped or scarred our kids. I see that gravity isn't a myth. I see it all.
When I look in the mirror, I also see the warrior that has been knocked down more times than she can count. I see someone who has taken every hit, and always found a way through. I see someone who has had to be resourceful beyond reason, who has been at the brink of drowning in the sheer volume of things that needed to be done, who has had to fight.
When I look in the mirror, I see someone who is still learning. Still learning to cut herself some slack. Someone still learning that, sometimes, it's okay to be still. Still learning to let go of constantly feeling responsible for keeping all the balls in the air. Still. Learning. Everything.
When I look in the mirror, with each passing day, more clearly, more defined, I see me, and I'm okay with that.
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This, my friends, is my 451st blog. Thank you so much for your support, your questions, your messages. At the writing of the first ramblings, there were 17 readers. Now, today, 91,803. At the first, readers came from one country. Now, 21 and counting.
Gratitude is a word too small.
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Until next time...
May you celebrate every day, the fact that you are here, here to laugh, here to live.
May you celebrate everything you are, everything you have, everything you give.
May you look in the mirror and see all that you are, let the negative whispers fall away.
May you celebrate your beauty, embrace your story, honour your strength, in every way.
May you find you are allowed to be happy, not just comfortable living in your own skin.
May you see that the acceptance searched for at the fingertips of strangers can only come from within.
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www.margyreidbooks.com
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