all the things I thought would save me
where I fight with my wrinkles
This week my elevens are making me feel old. My grey hair is multiplying. My body isn’t working. One thing triggers me and all I can think about is how it all would go away if I finally succumbed to Botox. But I have to remember that Botox will not save me.
Just like counting calories did not save me. Running did not save me. Size six Lululemon pants did not save me. Starting over, and eventually feeling joy again when I bit into a slice of pizza gave me back my power.
Wearing a pencil skirt did not save me, but it helped me earn a “boss lady” mug, a mid-manager attitude, and an addiction to praise.
Selling everything I own did not save me, but it made room for camping supplies and roller skates. It cleared space for novelty and freedom.
Moving to Italy did not save me. I was the same person, instead of a San Diegan Spanish casita I was logging into multiple wifi points in my marble palazzo.
My salvation is crinkled-up pages in books, memorized poetry, and the song “Bigger” by Beyonce. An occasional astrology deep-dive. Long catch-up phone calls with my girlfriends. Walks by the ocean. A hug from my husband. My nephew’s smiles and waves to me via FaceTime. A stranger telling me I look great. A few hours in a cafe with my journal. What about you?
Thank you for the writing prompt and inspiration,
! Check out her post here:
On another note, I am deeply perturbed by the continual murder of black people in the United States, most recently Marcellus Williams, who had been writing poetry from jail before his execution. I read “Sonny’s Blues” by James Baldwin for my writing class this week. It is one of the most beautiful stories I’ve ever read, but it made me very angry that nothing has changed since Baldwin published this story in 1957. The Innocence Project has a four-star rating on Charity Navigator if you feel compelled to donate.
This resonates deeply. I want so badly to just accept my body’s transition through middle age and I can’t seem to make my mind and emotions fall in line. Therapy helps but I’m realizing my acceptance is a long journey. Strength training and collagen have helped, as has medical care with my hormones. I tried Botox early this year and the results were meh…so at least I’ve gotten that particular urge out of my system. 😂 It felt good to give myself permission to try it, though. Really good pizza helps (much harder to find in Portugal than Italy, of course), along with hugs from my husband (THE BEST), snuggling with my kitty, and voxing with my friends in the US. Oh, and two years ago I completed my tattoo sleeve, which feels very badass in a way that transcends my age and helps me feel more confident.
We’re not alone, and I’m so grateful that there are an increasing number of us sharing our journeys. 🩷
Hey I am from San Diego too!! I love south of Rome but I will say I came here for access to Healthcare and it did indeed save me, in the literal sense, but living in Italy did not save me in the metaphorical sense.