Lorraine,
A good friend of mine sent this to me recently. It is hysterical and so true!
My only caveat is that the Boomerang Baggage generation, the 20 something’s, need to hear this message. Talk about late bloomers…
Mary,
Your dental narrative is something that we all can relate to………mouths filled with goop, gauze, strange looking metal contraptions and the people taking care of our teeth are chatting. We must feel obligated and/or compelled to answer even though our retort is inaudible. Just think of it, we could actually be saying nasty, negative things about their comments and they would never know. Could be the new dental “gotcha” for the slow torture they are putting us through.
As for your cold and quick remedies…….the common cold still has no real cure, and viruses RUN THEIR COURSE……..The COQ10 that you are supposed to take to help relieve your symptoms in 4 days…….I think some of that stuff is in the wrinkle lotion that I currently use……..BIG NEWSFLASH……it’s not working for my newest lines and crinkles so it may not work for your cold.
My suggestion……big cozy pajamas, roaring fire, hot tea and a good book and you will feel better soon. Maybe some REST will let you “free up some energy” to ski……..
Skip the snow and go right for the Après-ski time.
Lorraine
Lorraine,
I’m going to be of no help to you today. I’m in my own state of anxiety. I’m on day 3 of a bad cold that is just getting colder and worse, despite all my positive intentions to the universe, a heap load of Vitamin C, Cold Snap and now the latest Chinese herbal concoction from hell (1 tsp mixed in with warm water with a bucket nearby for the powerful gag reflex that results from drinking this stuff) that I’m pretty sure has caused the newly formed rash covering my legs.
I just got back from the dentist for an impression of my front tooth-less mouth, and was in agony sitting there with my mouth full of some kind of clay, trying not to sneeze, drip, and snivel while the dental assistant was telling me she was pregnant, but had had 4 second trimester miscarriages and what could I do?
I mean, here’s my mouth full of metal and silly putty, my eyes are tearing up, I’m fighting the need to swallow because I had swallowed once and the assistant told me I was biting her, and I want to be compassionate and understanding, and all I can do is grunt. Humiliating.
Now time to pack for our Aspen ski trip. I”m looking towards the mountains and it’s not a pretty sight. We’ve been told our 4 hour trip may take 10 hours due to closed passes and “horrendous” conditions. When I say, “Let’s just wait until tomorrow”, my ski-addicted friends all shout in unison, “NO WAY–WE WANT TO SKI ASAP!”.
My well meaning-husband asks me if maybe my cold is from feeling pressure to ski, and he wants me to acknowledge this so I can “free up some energy” that will help me get better! Now I really need to gag.
So, you’re anxious because of a major life transition. Need I remind you that you are in the middle of packing up your home soon to be HOMELESS! You don’t have empty next syndrome, you have empty house syndrome!
The best advice I can give you as you move back to the Wild West and the wide open spaces, is get a big supply of XANAX ASAP ‘cuz you’re going to need it.
I have to run. On my way to store to get some COQ10 enzyme thingy that my dentist (who is also going on the ski trip) is telling me is sure to cure me in 4 days. 4 DAYS?
4 Days? We’ll all probably still be stuck in a snow drift.
Mary
Mary,
I am currently in the stages of high anxiety……….and I am trying hard to figure out why. Could it be anxiety as a symptom of menopause as the books and websites all say, or could it be the circumstances in our life that come at the same time as menopause?? It is almost like the riddle……which came first, the chicken or the egg?
Both you and I have suffered from anxiety at different times in our lives, and as we look back we can now, pretty well, identify the obvious culprits………husbands and kids.
That double-duo could put us into a panic attack quicker than the newest wrinkles that are starting to appear on my neck.
*** Although, now that I have put that admission of neck rumples in writing, I can feel my stomach tightening, my heart racing and my thoughts veering towards the yellow pages and a plastic surgeon.***
But now, deep into menopause I am finding myself again experiencing that feeling of foreboding, angst and nervousness that I used to feel when I worried about the kid’s behind the wheel, my husband’s job and making everything work at home while I was at work doing work.
I have no more of the above issues to concern myself with and yet all of a sudden, shallow breathing, knots in stomach, tunnel vision and general feelings of angst. After many hours of pondering I think I have figured it out ……….no kid issues, no husband issues, no issues in general has left me floundering in a sea of……WHAT DO I DO NOW?
Maybe that is where a lot of us find ourselves in our 50’s…alleviated from the trials and tribulations of our former, younger lives………and that also leaves us with the challenge of finding things to again make us feel productive and useful.
So, I won’t hit the panic button when I feel panicky, I won’t fear the future, and I will put together a plan for something constructive and hope the frets all flutter away.
Lorraine
Lorraine,
Sounds like you came back with more baggage than you brought. Stomach flu and over-worked achy muscles?
What’s with vacations that so many of us get sick when we go on them? We desperately need the vacation. We’re stressed out, burned out, talked out, worked out, just plain lived out.
We need the vacation, we will only survive with the vacation, WE MUST HAVE THE VACATION.
We get on the plane, sit down and breathe all the stress and worked-outness away. Unfortunately, our little impish stress system starts jumping up and down with relief, letting down its guard. Simultaneously, we’re breathing in all the fun contagious germs that have made their way out of the other passenger’s stressed out burned out nervous systems.
Glad the stomach bug didn’t hit you until the last day. Although traveling on small planes with fluids wanting to escape from all kinds of body cavities can’t be fun.
As for your sore body from the trip AND being the oldest, be of good cheer.
Since the 50’s are the new 30’s, you were the exact same age as all the other 30 year olds.
And, sorry, I’m not buying it. I don’t believe for one second that those thirty-something’s weren’t as sore as you were! Anyone going from sea level to the gates of heaven is going to get sore.
You were a total stud when it came to the Jaws-infested waters. I can picture you jumping off the boat with that great ‘DA DA DA DA DA DA DA DA DADADADADADADA….BIG HORN SOUND—DA DA DA!
Glad you came back in one piece.
Of course, to be totally honest with you, it was hard for me to feel sorry for your queasy stomach and itsy bitsy sore muscles after your fauhbulhous week in the tropics.
Remember, it’s frigid, it’s snowing, and there’s black ice on the roads where I live and I haven’t seen above 30 degrees in a long time.
But I don’t want to sound jealous, envious, resentful, covetous, or suggest that I’ve become a green-eyed monster.
‘Course I’m not any of those things…. (in Boulder we call this “truthfulness challenged).
Glad you’re back, Mary
Mary,
So good to hear that you are going to take a deep breath and cheer up. It is what you have to do because the alternative is either more prescription drugs or a life of looking like a bag lady with really bad hair.
Besides coming back from Belize with some type of stomach bug, I return with little or no REAL tan but some great memories and stories. The little or no tan thing is because I don’t purposely sit out in the sun anymore……..so any passing rays through swaying palms were non-intensive and didn’t compete with my L’Oreal tanning sheets. No one but me knows that my Belizean tan was rubbed on and purchased in the aisles of the grocery store.
We did all the adventure trips listed in the brochures, there are two that really stand out in my mind. The one that nearly killed me and the one that reassured me I could still be bold, courageous and plucky.
The excursion that turned my thighs into overcooked pasta was the climb up the mountain, through the jungle, to get to the waterfalls and pool at the top. When we read about the trip and talked to the guide, it sounded like a no-brainer. I workout, do Pilates and lift weights but going from sea level to 7,500 feet in less than an hour really messed with my lungs and ALL lower body muscles. There were ropes to climb and vines to hang on to with dear life as you clung to the side of the mountain. Yes, I turned out to be the SLOWEST (which the boys were ignoring as they were MILES in front of me on the trail), but I also realized I was the OLDEST woman in the group. There were maybe 4 others….all in their 30’s.
It was a bitter pill to realize that I could still make the climb but the guide needed binoculars as he looked back over the trail to find me. A speck amongst the tropical rain forest. The only thing that kept me going at ANY kind of pace was the fact that they had seen Jaguars lately and I didn’t want to be dinner., Needless to say the next morning my thighs WERE On FIRE!! Another reminder of being 50-something.
The other pleasure trip was the snorkeling amid the beautiful coral, tropical fish and SHARKS. Now, I was reassured after the guide started hurling little fishes out of the boat to draw the sharks in that these were nurse sharks and had no teeth………OK, but be careful, he says, don’t get too close cause their skin is like coarse sand paper and their tails will whip. Already in the boat, with my swimsuit, goggles and snorkel, I had no choice but to jump in with the rest of the swimmers.
Just before I hurled myself over the side, the guide did say to be aware of what was around you, because just a few days ago they did have two BULL SHARKS cruise through the serene snorkeling reefs.
I figured at that point I could either go for it or have to hear about it from the rest of the family……first the “Tortoise up the mountain” and then the “she is scared of sharks” routine. Hey, there is nothing to tease about now as Mom finished both and had a great time doing it except maybe the look on my face every time we had to board those little 4 seater flights to go island-hopping. There was a lot of elbowing and smirking by my family when we all were aboard….green mustn’t be my best color.
Lorraine
Lorraine,
Not to be a word hog here, but let’s face it. You’re on the sunny beaches of Belize and I’m in the frozen tundra of land-locked Colorado. I’m obviously the more depressed one of the two of us—don’t even try to compete by saying it’s been hard to be in a bathing suit.
So, I’ve been depressed all day thinking about this middle-age depression thing. I realized that I have multiple diagnoses: I’m depressed, neurotic, obsessive compulsive and perpetually hormonal.
I’ve also been teary as of late. This is a huge anomaly for me. I kind of like it. Remember those Hallmark commercials where you could cry on a dime? Heck, I can start crying watching a Viagra commercial.
I’m pretty sure that the reason for ALL of this is sleep deprivation. I would give anything for a good 8-hour sleep. I go to sleep at midnight and wake up at 4:15 AM.
But the sleeping issues aside, I’m going to change my attitude and view this in a more positive light.
I got my driver’s license before I got my period. I’m a little past middle age and now I’m depressed
I’m just a late bloomer.
Mary
Check this out:
Middle age is truly miserable, according to a study using data from 80 countries showing that depression is most common among men and women in their 40s.
British and U.S. researchers found that happiness for people ranging from Albania to Zimbabwe follows a U-shaped curve where life begins cheerful before turning tough during middle age and then returning to the joys of youth in the golden years.
So I’m confused. This seems to be a world wide trend and is consistent among married people, single people, in-between people. What then is all this hype about the 40’s being the new 30’s and the 50’s being the new 40’s? And apparently, the “golden years” are the new childhood.
I’ve been actually feeling so happy and now I’m feeling schizophrenic. And if the 40’s are the years for depression and I’m in my early 50’s, why do I need this bio-identical hormone patch to help with my hormonal mood swings?
Were women a part of this study?
I need to have a whole new perspective. Now I can’t wait for the golden years so I can be a kid again.
Hmmm…why am I not convinced? This depression study is making me depressed.
Mary
Lorraine,
You should NEVER stay up at these ungodly hours watching these tele-whatever they are who you should know better are SLICK OIL SALESPEOPLE.
It’s simply an unfortunate coincidence that this “tele-expert” AKA beauty school dropout didn’t like your very sophisticated and modern choice of lipstick. Now, you know that living in Boulder, Colorado doesn’t put me on the Top 10 Fashion City list, but I know enough to know that your lipstick shade looks great on you, and at the end of the day, isn’t that all that matters?
Good thing I still have the basic tomboy in me who doesn’t give a rip about this stuff. Fine, I’m vain enough to pay for Botox and my soon-to-be around the corners of my mouth Juvederm, but those things are simple and someone else does it for me.
As for picking a lipstick, I usually grab them at Whole Foods and feel fashion conscious and environmental at the same time. I rarely look at the actual shade because then I start feeling overwhelmed at the choices.
Lesson for you Lorraine: Drink some warm milk at night and count sheep and whatever you do, avoid any kind of late night TV…unless it’s a “Real Housewives of Orange County Housewives”. Compared to them, you’re a fashion mogul.
Mary
Mary,
Last night during my constant “I cannot sleep” period, I started to watch, in hoping to be so bored that it would actually cause slumber, a show called “WHAT NOT TO WEAR”.
The show finds a woman who has lost all fashion sense and motivation for taking care of herself and then tells the woman how horrific she looks. They point out each and every flaw and mistake being made by this poor fashion victim, give her money and send her out in hopes she changes her usual buying habits and put her into a whole new wardrobe.
ANYWAY, they get to the part where the poor tasteless woman has to get new makeup. The makeup expert asks to see what kind of lipstick she is currently wearing.
Mary, I swear this is true. Low and behold, the fashion failure pulls out the exact lipstick (brand and shade) that I wear - at which time the makeup expert went completely BERSERK spouting rude comments such as, “Uggh, that color is SO old, this shade has been around since the 80;s - it is so 10 minutes ago, it is out of style and is now such a makeup NO – NO!” This poor woman at the other end of the lipstick lecture needed a rock to hide under and so did I.
There I sat, in the dark, suffering my silent humiliation. But wait, I love my lipstick, and if I had seen this during the day when I was more alert, I would have hopped up, shot to the mirror and examined my lips and how the lipstick looked. But since it was hours till dawn, I had to sit and think about my bad lipstick, my older age, my inability to embrace lip-gloss and I had to admit my overall makeup faux paux.
Now I really couldn’t sleep, I had to face my last-century lipstick reality, and obsess about hitting the makeup counters in the morning, searching for the newest bestest lipstick color.
I will follow the directions of the tele-makeup expert and purchase something (as she did for the poor tasteless woman) a few shades different - and I mean just a few shades. I can handle that, I will look at myself with this new shade and wonder if I really look better or just more current and I will apply my new shade convincing myself that the tele-makeup expert recommended this SO IT MUST BE RIGHT.
They are young and in-style, I am apparently stuck in a make-up time warp. I hope to get some sleep soon. Even a new shade of lip tint won’t hide dark circle and bags under my eyes AND because I don’t know if I can emotionally handle another session of any type of makeover, it’s too much silent humiliation.
Lorraine