Terri Years

You know how they say that one dog year equals seven human years? I understand that this axiom is not particularly accurate. Calculating a dog’s aging process is more complicated than that. It seems, with a dog, a year is not a year is not a year. Some years are more equal than others.

I think the same is true with humans. At least, it is for me. I am not talking about the various and sundry health issues that seem to jump out from behind a curtain and gobble me up rather than nibble away at me gradually over time. If I am honest, those health matters do creep up over time.  The only thing sudden about them is my sudden inability to live in denial about them.   The more striking example of some years being more aging than other, seems to be my appearance.

Now, most of you know that I have never been any great shakes to look at. The one good thing I could say about my appearance is that I floated through year after year without seeming to change much. I probably spent 15-20 years looking almost exactly the same. We sometimes look at old pictures and it is difficult to date them by my appearance. If we look at old Thanksgiving photos, there is really no way to tell if we are looking at Terri 2002 or Terri 2012. In the last three years, though, I’d say that aging has been making up for lost time. The last year, especially, seems to have been hard on my constitution. I just compared some recent pictures to ones from the same event last year. I am now depressed.

I noticed a year or so ago that my jawline was starting to sink. And, believe me, I cannot afford to give up any space between my face and my shoulders. My father always called me the neckless wonder, given the fact that my chin nearly touched my boobs even when I was young. Now, it is a complete mystery whether or not I do have any neck at all because I have sagging jowls. My skin used to be oily and acne prone, but at least it glowed. It is now a peculiar shade of dull. I never used to have dark circles under my eyes. I now look like I am wearing glasses even when I am not wearing glasses. I don’t even have bags anymore. The indentations under my eyes are now twin steamer trunks. I could be sailing to Europe on the QEII with this much luggage. My hair looks even more tired than I feel. The grey roots seem to appear overnight about two and a half weeks after a trip to salon. It grows out, rather than down. As I have tried to embrace my curls, I find myself looking increasingly like a brunette Bozo the Clown… or like there is a family of cats living on my head somewhere in the chaos.

Maybe I am just having a bad self-image day. Maybe I am just overcritical of my appearance. It wouldn’t be the first time. Even given that I can be somewhat delusional about my looks- or at least some people say so- I cannot help but believe that some years age me faster than others.

I do want to be fair. I did have those 15-20 years of time standing kind of still. I suppose it was bound to catch up with me someday. I am grateful for the years of looking young. My self-image was no better in those days. In fact, it was a good deal worse. I am not sure I could have handled feeling ugly AND old all the time. Over the past several years, I have been working hard to rewire my brain. I can get through a day or a week or even a month without feeling ugly and repulsive. When I do feel ugly and repulsive, it is a mood or a moment, not a state of being.

Despite the progress I have made in seeing and appreciating myself as I actually am- physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually- my appearance has aged way more than one year in this past year. I accept that, presuming I don’t get run over by a bus, it is likely that I will encounter this phenomenon of “ultra-aging” more frequently in the next years. On the other hand, I am happier and more at peace than I ever have been in my life. I am gentler with myself and others. I am more comfortable living my life as it comes. I am more excited about growth. I am more trusting of God.

I guess I can put up with cheeks that are closer to my esophagus than my eyeballs, skin the color of old tissue paper, hair that looks like cats live in it, and luggage for a transatlantic voyage under my eyes if the pay-off is self-value and joy. 

This is going to take some getting used to. In the meantime, I definitely think I am going to stop going anywhere near a camera without make-up!

Have a youthful day!

Terri/Dorry 😊

Do you think that some years age you more than others? How do you come to terms with the changes age makes to your appearance? Please share your perspective by leaving a comment. In the alternative, you can email me at terriretirement@gmail.com.

I’m Not Marooned On A Mountaintop

The best laid plans of mice and men and Trrri sometimes actually do turn out to be the best-laid plans. Last week, nestled between two hurricanes, Max and I went on a scheduled vacation to the Great Smoky Mountains. My understanding when I moved to Florida was that the hurricane season ended with September. I should have gotten that in writing.

As we drove towards Tennessee, it occurred to me that I was driving practically into ground zero for Hurricane Helene. Luckily, where we were going did not have too much damage, but there were storm ravages in nearby areas that were now inaccessible by vehicle. Two of our tour guides volunteered with the relief efforts. In their case, “volunteering” meant hiking up into isolated sections of the mountains with 35 pounds of basic essential items on their backs. That was the only way to transport life sustaining items to help the people stranded by the storm’s damage to the roads.

While we were in Tennessee, Hurricane Milton fought his way across a swath of central Florida. We were safe 600 miles away, but we were concerned for our family of friends in Florida and, of course, for our house. The hurricane hype trailed us two states north.

I’m happy to report that we arrived home safely, about three days after Milton’s temper tantrum. All our friends are safe and very few experienced any significant damage. We came home to traffic lights floating at weird angles because the hurricane winds had warped them off their normal balance perpendicular to the pavement. We had some yard debris and we lost approximately six roof shingles. The street sign where we turn to approach our house is a bit more difficult to read than usual because it is now lying face-up on the ground. Neighbors inform us that the power was powerless for about 12 hours before the electric company was able to get it restored. We didn’t lose any groceries.

All in all, I’d say we fared pretty well. After all, I could be marooned on a mountain top in Tennessee waiting for some kind, physically fit volunteer backpacker to bring me peanut butter.

Have a peaceful day!

Terri/Dorry 🙂

What is the worst weather you’ve had to face? How did you handle it? Please share your perspective by leaving a comment. On the alternative, you can email me at terriretiremet@gmail.com.

Follow The Bouncing Birthday

I turned 65 on Monday. It didn’t suck.

Some of you know that this birthday was kicking me with a high wattage emotional jolt. Becoming officially “old” according to the United States government caused me to re-evaluate the ways I think about myself. I’m usually  the youngest in the room. I’ve always had a rather child-like persona. I see myself as young. Clearly, by sending me a Medicare card, the United States government is suggesting that I might be delusional in that perception.

Well, I re-evaluated but have decided that the United States government is wrong in its perception of me, and I am right. I am me, with all my quirks and oddities, all my failures and frailties, all my childishness and hyper-responsibility, all my creativity and stability, and all my playfulness and wisdom. In short, I am the wildly wonderful, bizarre buffet of attributes that God combined with inscrutable intentionality to design who He wanted me to be. That design is ageless. In God’s time, I am young… and always will be.

My birthday celebrations certainly make a strong case that the number of years of my age does not define the youth of my soul.

Things started strong with a birthday box I received from my precious sister by selection in California, Judy. The box contained a variety of gifts that spoke to my value in the world. One of these small gifts that housed great value was a small sign that proclaimed that I have been loved for 65 years (and every variant possible of “65 years.”) Another was a little zippered pouch that proclaims that I have been making the world a better place since 1959. Such simple thoughts, but they packed such an emotional wallop. They forced me to tap into my spirit and find a place that values myself in these ways. It is wonderful that my Judy has these sentiments, and it is even more wonderful that she reminds me that I have them deep inside me, as well, and it is important to honor them.

I told you I had plans to visit a ranch called Beautiful Creatures Animal Sanctuary but was concerned that Hurricane Helene would dispose of those plans. Fortunately, the weather cooperated, and we spent a FABULOUS day with Candice at the ranch. I fed Dolly the sloth. I took the mini-horse Casper for a walk. I played with Betty the porcupine. Mountjac deer Prongs and Clary gave me kisses. I gave toddler kangaroo Hopper his bottle. I served dead meal worms to rambunctious lemurs. I wrapped myself in a corn snake. I hugged a hedgehog. I fell in love with a French bulldog puppy named Hiram. His custodians referred to him as “Darryl,” but I have it directly from him that his name is Hiram. There was so much more that I could say. This brief paragraph can’t even begin to describe the surprises and delights!

Candice, one of the owners of the ranch and our guide for the day, was another reason my experience was so joyful. She made me feel so special. It is not like me to take precedence over other people. I like being generous and doing things for other people. It is very unlike me to “go first” or be the one to ask for an opportunity if it means someone else won’t get one. Candice went out of her way to make the day all about me. She made it extremely easy for me to be “selfish” on my special day. Maya Angelou said that “People will forget what you do, but they will always remember how you made them feel.”  Candice made me feel awesome.

On Sunday, my friend and pastor preached a sermon that seemed to be especially for me. It was one of those sermons that bore some careful holes into my heart so God could reach me at a deeper level than usual. It felt like a warm, encouraging validation of worth. I am not so self-absorbed to think that the sermon was all about me. I am sure it spoke to many others in the pews as well. I don’t even know that I entered into the inspiration phase of the sermon, but I am so thankful that I could receive it in the way that I did.

On Sunday and Monday, friends and family showered me with birthday wishes. One friend stopped by with flowers and a balloon. On Monday morning, I slept until 9:00am. Since I usually crave sleep the way a crack addict craves cocaine, this was a fantastic way to start my actual birthday. When Max gave me my card, he commented, “I am so happy you are the love of my life.”  My heart just melted like the ice cream with the birthday cake that someone left on the counter.

Much to his relief (he has been trying to get me to open gifts for months now), I finally broke into the presents. I was delighted because I had forgotten every single one of them. Max tends to buy my presents at random times during the year and only when I am around to concur with his choices. This means that there is often a backlog of gifts. If the backlog gets long enough, I forget what we chose. It is a win-win scenario. Max does not need to stress about perhaps buying something I won’t like, and I get a surprise because my memory is not that long.

 Max and I went to Orlando for a birthday dinner at BJ’s Brewhouse, which was delicious. Finally, just when I thought the birthday was basically over, the doorbell rang. When my mother was alive, I used to buy her a gift every year on my birthday. I figured she did all the work. All I did was show up. This year, this very special birthday, I ordered a floral arrangement of white roses (my mother’s favorite flower) and pale peachy pink roses (my favorite flower. It is a fitting celebration of both of us and the path that she set us on 65 years ago.

On Tuesday, there was a bit more bounce left in the birthday ball. At our Alpha course session, there was birthday cake and ice cream to celebrate me and my dear friend who partners with me in producing Alpha. Her birthday is today, so please everyone repeat after me….”HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BABS!”

I don’t know how a girl could feel anything but loved and valued and joyful with family (by birth and selection) and friends like mine. I am a very, very blessed lady.

Please remind me of this the next time I fall into a pit of darkness!

Have a celebratory day!

Terri/Dorry 🙂

What is your favorite birthday memory? Please share your perspective by leaving a comment. In the alternative, you can email me at terriretirement@gmail.com.