The title of this blog post was going to contain lots of ‘F’ words – not 4 letter ones I hasten to add – because I am feeling pretty fabulous right now. But it sounded a bit too cheerful for a birthday I was not looking forward to – because even though I’m actually a fairly optimistic person (except when under extreme stress) 55 just sounds old to me.
My 50th birthday was fine, because lots of us can expect to reach 100, can’t we? But now I’m half way to 110, it’s time to embrace the idea that I have more years behind me than ahead. And that’s a scary thought.
And I’m finally, definitely middle aged. I should be grumpy, grey, gloomy and saggy. Eeyore with a paunch.
Luckily that hasn’t happened yet, thanks to author and blogger Office Mum who passed on a free month’s gym membership that got me over my gym phobia, and a friend who encouraged me to join her running group. And this week saw confirmation that I have lost over a stone in weight over the past 18 months with no calorie counting involved and I haven’t given up eating cake.
Life has also been slowly improving – with a number of deep dips – and so between the exercise, and a restricted menu due to stomach problems, I’ve been able to tear up my regular prescription and ditch everything on it, including stuff I’ve been on for ten years or more for a number of different diagnosed medical conditions. The weaning process wasn’t easy, but I’m glad to be rid of all the horrible side effects from the medication. Of course I’m not the same person I was: I’m stuck in never ending menopause and I need to get my cholesterol level checked and I still have anxiety, but it’s manageable for now, though that may change once school begins again…
The sad thing is that the physical and emotional problems needing medication were probably the result of severe stress, most of it caused by the State and other people. And most of it completely unnecessary and avoidable. And many of my friends have experienced similar issues, or are going through hell right now. It’s so wrong and leads to so much misery. Just why????
Worse still the state expects carers like me and my friends to keep caring indefinitely, and yet the messages from politicians tell us that our health and fitness is our responsibility. How does that work if you don’t have respite or a service for your loved one, or spend your days at appointments and form filling? Or have lost your home and income due to your caring responsibilities?
It doesn’t make any sense, but enough of the ranting as this is supposed to be a cheerful post, and back to the birthday and the reality of being 55. I seem to be healthy, I’m comfortable with the way I look, I’ve accepted that I’m socially awkward – and luckily my friends seem to have accepted it too – I’m a stuck at home carer, but when things are calm, it’s not a bad life, I can see that now. So this is me, looking forward and feeling very much alive.
Joining in with Reasons to Be Cheerful, which is hosted this week by Lakes Single Mum.