Talk About Aging

Over the last few months, and I'm positive in association with COVID, I have been less compassionate with my body.

I have noticed the sagging skin, the wobbly arms, the dimpled legs, the not-so-apparent rib cage.

And, I have talked about it with myself.

Not in kind ways.

I always feel stronger and more confident when I am consistently working out.

We eat really, quite healthy at our house.

I get as much sleep as I can whilst living the busy life that I do.

I drink more water now than I ever have.

I am probably the healthiest I have ever been.

But I will forever struggle with being kind to my body, in all of it's strength and glory and imperfections.

That is part of what addiction is - a constant, daily struggle which requires actively battling it.

Eating disorders are a very common addiction.

I had a moment of grace last night.

I stood in front of our bathroom mirror.

I saw my changing arms.

And my belly.

And my dimpled legs.

The smile lines on my face.

The wrinkles and loose skin on my neck.

I lifted my arms and shook them,watching the skin wave back and forth.

I felt the soreness in my joints and the race of my heart.

I thought about the struggles I had during the day with my memory and the tingling in my fingers.

And I said to myself, "Heidi Rae. You are 43 years old. You are closer to 45 than to 40. You have lived a hard, adventurous, chaotic, sun-lit life. You have freckles to prove it. You carried four wondrous humans in your body and then gave birth to each. You have had heart surgery. You have had three back surgeries. You survived a stroke. Within not very many years, you will be a grandma. For real."

There are articles and Groupons everywhere about tightening here and sucking out here and nipping and tucking there and lasering every place.

I remember that one of the things that I loved the very most about my Grandma Robb were her wrinkles. They were all over her body. I remember them mostly on her hands and on her face. I recall how absolutely stunningly beautiful I thought they were. I loved the feel of the top of her hands, enveloped in wrinkles. I loved putting a little blush over her cheeks that were draped in wrinkles. She had sun spots and angel kisses (freckles). Her skin was loose and her lines were deep. She was, and always has been, the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

And so, with that...

I find grace.

I actively remind myself that in my aging, I am perfectly imperfect.

I challenge myself to move my body and stretch my limbs.

I choose to love myself.