Forty-six.

Full moon.

My back hurts and I have some sort of weird bruising on my leg.

Where are my crystals? I should probably charge them. And I keep forgetting to manifest my destiny at 11:11.

This is 46.

I have always been upfront about my age. It’s a privilege to age. So I don’t take it for granted.

I think of my birthday as my January 1. I set my intentions and I start to build on it. Last year I made the promise to myself to start this little blog, I needed an outlet and I needed to write.  I get that little panic attack, breathe into a paper bag feeling when I realize how much time has passed and how much time I have left on this Earth.

Where’s my heating pad? Maybe some CBD oil? Okay that’s better. I should probably take some ibuprofen. I’m already sore tomorrow.

This is 46.

I’m a little more comfortable now so let’s talk about this aging thing.

It’s odd how coffee is now medicinal. Seriously. It’s turned into a whole routine that is no longer sugar and creamer.

Seriously.

I work out every damn day now. Mostly so I can button my jeans. I have read about gut health, poop school and I have learned what make my body happy. Doesn’t mean I don’t OD on candy or lick the bottom of the chocolate cake pan; just means I know that my body will make me pay for it.

I also believe in good lighting and even better moisturizer. Look bitch, I know you still have that good skin and you don’t wash your face; but when you wake up in your thirties looking like day of the dead….you’ll be looking for a reverse aging too. Yes I’m rolling my eyes. Because the number 11 in between my eyebrows just appeared one day. Also wax your eye brows. Just do it.  Chin hairs too. Don’t look so appalled, everyone has them. Just drink your damn water. No really it’s water. That’s the secret.

My contact lenses are now saved for special occasions. I am tired of squinting through life and my eyes are dry. It’s a thing. But then my glasses get heavy and irritating, so I will just walk around blind until the eye strain is too much.

This is 46.

I suffer from FOMO. I want to be invited, I just don’t want to go. Not any more. I want to hear all about your burdens and joys,  but I also desperately want you to stop whining. 

I have grown so much  in the last five years that I’m amazed. I have grown so much in the last 10 years. I am now stronger emotionally as well as physically. I know how to stop negative self talk before it gets out of control. I have so many tools like good books and better friends to help through those moments of doubt.

I’m also not as brave as I want to be. Yet. I know I hold myself back. The people pleaser in me still shows up and cares too much; and that’s a work in progress. I am much better than I use to be. I am still learning to protect my boundaries and to say no without the fear of hurting someone’s feelings. It’s a work in progress.

Getting to this age is weird. I still think I’m 17 and yet I know so much more. I still want to do all the things.  I can see my past and realize how much it taught me. I speak the truth more. I can read people better ; I realize not everyone is meant to stay in my life and not everyone gets that second (or third) chance any more.

I don’t know how I feel about being 46. I know I am happy to see it. I’m happy to have the challenge in front of me, but I’m a little sad too. I haven’t been able to figure out why. Maybe it’s just the full moon and it will pass. Or maybe it’s I have too many expectations for me and I need to calm the hell down. Either way, this is 46. I will embrace it and not waste the time.

I will grow a little more and embrace me a little more. The good and the not so good. This year I will learn to let go just a little more.

I will also nap more.

This is 46.

Time to spread my wings. But first I will eat cake.