The angst I feel at this time of my life is not
becoming.
I mean sure, it was cute when I was a teenager – even somewhat
adorable in my 20s! But firmly ensconced
in my 50s? Muddled, anxious, crabby,
lonely, and sweaty, maybe.
Not becoming.
I dislike my moodiness and have taken to faking
jocularity in public. Hi!
How are you! Me? Oh, fine, fine. You know, it certainly is hot out! That’ll change soon enough, huh? OK – yeah, you, too! Talk to you later!
Sigh.
Truth be told, I sailed through my teens. Aside from being unreliable, contemptuous,
snide, disagreeable, and sneaky, I was not an entirely bad person, despite what
you may read in my yearbook.
And now, it’s all I can do to keep the scowl off my face.
How does this work now?
How do I go from loving the people around me to secretly wishing that
they’d, oh, you know, drop dead?
I keed! I keed!
Please don’t drop dead!
Argh. I need
someone much, much larger than me to wrap me in a blanket, swaddle me tight,
and beam lovingly into my eyes until I fall asleep.
Followed by treats, words of praise, and a steak, medium-rare.
I am in the middle of writing this when I get a text from
a relative: I’m crabby and hormonal and
a complete monster. What do I do?
What do you do?
Oh, honey. You sit
here next to me.
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33 comments:
I hear you!
I am 66 and find it hard to be happy...why??? No idea..no clues...at all..
I have 100 million reasons to be happy...why can't I put one to use?
Hope you are feeling perkier...
Oh don't get me started on not being perky...hahaha1
Enjoy your week...
Cheers!
Linda :o)
I'm 73. It doesn't get much better, and I have little advice, except keep on faking it. I'll report back when I learn how to replace friends moving south.
Hari Om
Lawdy gal, I'sa been writing about the not coping for over three years now - working on the premise that speaking aloud and sharing with all and sundry will help clear the mud.
Tell me if you have more success than I did.
On the other key, things are starting to get a bit better. At least I can recall what I had for brekky. Or the fact that I forgot to have brekky. So perhaps those three years of "wwwhyyyyyy??" did get me by after all. Yes. So keep typing. That's what I'd do. That way we can continue to sit together.
YAM xx
Yes. Life sucks at the most inconvenient times, hormones or no hormones, reasons or no reasons. Room on that bench for one more (or more likely, a dozen more)?
Yes, yes! 43, over-caffeinated, under-chocolated and feeling stabby all the time. It's going to be a long coast down the proverbial hill. Maybe we need to add a little extra tequila in our margaritas?
Ah, Pearl. I so understand! I'm trying to learn to enjoy the moments between the moodiness and snakiness and other aspects of getting older. Who knew there would be a second or third adolescence in our future?
I'm not quite your age but I can understand. Am I too young to be like that?
In theory, I want friends and to be sociable and all that good stuff.
In practice: Does that mean I'd have to put up with their crap or, you know, answer the phone?
Grumpiness is an absolute perk of getting to your 50's - embrace your cantankerousness and enjoy!
Yea, sometimes it sucks. Sometimes we just cannot be that perfect goddess we know is inside.
But the one foot in front of the other, along with lipstick and a drink recommended by Liz is how I get by.
We all get to play the pretender sometimes. When those times get to be too often maybe it's time for help. I wonder if this great social media experiment we are subjecting ourselves to is not going so well.
Oh the simpler days when you could blame it on the bossa nova.
You may be going through the crankification process. Don't fight it, it is easier to just succumb.
I'm 81 & I agree with everything you said, except that I'd want my steak rare!!
Pearl! A post from Pearl!
You're the age where it's okay to be crabby. Just drink, eat mashed potatoes and read a good book. You'll feel better if you do those three things, then repeat.
I'm fairly cranky too - although I can't figure out if it hormonal or if it is the fact that I seem to be surrounded by idiots.
You are singing a song that many of us know. Very, very well.
I hope that bench is BIG.
I think my crankiness stems from the fact that I am 53 on the outside and 33 on the inside. And every cliche I've ever heard about aging seems to be coming to fruition. So now, I feed them to myself. I tell myself how in ten years, I'll miss this body I have right now so I might as. Well enjoy it. I tell myself laugh lines are the result of laughter so I should embrace them. And I do in between bouts of resting bitch face.
51.... and I really have no clue what's going on anymore....
Sx
I have to work hard at getting better when I feel myself getting low. It is never easy. Tomorrow, or the next day or the next week or the next month, etc. will be better. It always is, even though it is a battle to get there.
I know that all your followers would like to form a collective hug around you, dear Pearl, and protect you from the sadness that you feel.
All I can say is, your sense of humor will save you and maybe someone else.
I found that I have less ... what do you call it ... that sense that makes you Not say something ... I say it.
And as a result, a few "friends" who emailed often ( especially when I lived in Argentina and my husband and I were "cool") people emailed me and liked what I wrote.
Now they are all cranky and critical.
You know what I say ... being of an age where I can say whatever I want and if they don't like it
F*** em !
My husband taught me that. :)
But he died too. So no one is here now to control my outbursts of impatience and ridicule.
love you.
I have less and less time for bull... I try very hard to be nice and understanding but I also say it like it is... it's not easy... lol
As you can see you are not alone we all have the angry years, why we are not welcome in the army at this time is beyond me I think we would all make perfect good fighters for a few years.
Merle...............
Huh. Pearl m'dear, I have no idea what's going of with you other than maybe this isn't what you had anticipated at this point in your life.
And I doubt this blogging life has any answers either.
Best to you, at times over the past couple years you've reminded me of Cary, now 20 years gone. That carries no obligation.
Cheers, I hope all the best to and for you.
Mike
You've brought a lot of humor (read joy) into my life --certainly as I left my 50s behind-- and now, at 66 (one digit short of the mark of the Beast) I must admit, I have come to appreciate your fierce positivism to no end. If there's a psychic gathering around you in this electronic seance, please note I have included myself. Be at peace; you're wonderful.
What the hell Pearl, you are coming into NAY growing into the age of entitlement. That age where you are entitled to say whatever the hell is on your mind and get a senior discount on coffee at Tim Hortons. Jaysus woman don't complain about the freedom that comes with age--enjoy the hell out of finally being free to say what you want and have others think you're totally insane! (which keeps them away by the by.)
I'd be more than happy to wrap you up and hold you until you fell asleep. It would probably do me a lot of good, too.
Hey! You kids get off the lawn!
"Everybody needs somebody" is not just a line from a song. May you soon be with a special somebody who looks lovingly into your eyes.
Moodiness. I take a pill for that now.
;)
I'm 86 and really struggling not to be a sour old biddy. It was so much easier when my husband was here. The love-light in his eyes made me strive to be what he thought I was. I still try but By Golly it's bloomin' hard.
I could build you a row-bot. You could get in your row-bot controlled kayak and it would peacefully row you into tomor-row, reciting p-row-etry, maybe a little, "I Must Go Down To The Lake Again ..." gently lulling you to sleep. I could supply home brew beer, too.
Just wait til you get to 76 and the doc tells you you've got arthritis in your hip and probably will need a new one some day but in the meantime he'll send you to Physical Therapy, which he (HIMSELF) describes as "torture" and he didn't lie (much) and . . and . . and . . it goes on.
Yep, Honey. Come and sit next to me!
Going on year nine of hot flashes....NINE! Dammit. I don't care what they say, alcohol helps, and carbs. Screw the belly fat. They say one lives longer if not too skinny. Hey now, no threat of that happening. Hang in there Pearl. You have friends who love you to pieces and can relate. X
The way I look at it, people of our age have earned our right to be grumpy. We should be allowed to enjoy it to the fullest with no apologies.
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