Last night suuuuuucked. (Well, good morning to you, too!)
I have notes to myself for certain situations because I know that I will forget what to do. For example, when I have a cold: my head is too thick with sick to remember what to do. So I trained myself to anchor the thought "what would you tell your friend to do if she were sick?", and then do that. Occasions where I need to ask myself my own advice happen often enough that I've started noting them down. With age comes wisdom, or with age comes more situations where I need help, or with age I know I need help? Maybe, yes, and certainly.
I love the wisdom of getting older. I love that I am learning how to pause, how to stop time, how to Breathe and Think.
Life is so much calmer (in a good way), loving is so much easier.
I want to say that I love getting older 100%, but today I do not. Today getting older is punctuated with my body giving me a big Fuck You. Today is my body reminding me that I need to take my own advice, tattoo it on my arm Memento-style: remember the things that make me hurt. Today getting older is a double whammy combo of forgetting what makes me hurt and remembering that my body can't deal with normal things anymore. My organs are sensitive and everyday stuff can make my torso feel like its being pinched by a giant binder clip. No good.
Today I recover from a sleepless, pain-filled night of my own doing. Because I ate dinner with abandon to celebrate Mother's Day with one of my favorite mothers and my goddaughter. I forgot to read my own notes that remind me what makes my old organs rebel and I am paying the price. I will play for a few more moments the sad violin piece that mourns a food creative with food sensitivities. Most...seriously, most days I like the challenge this gives me. Today, not so much.
Being human takes practice. Today I allow myself to be pinched by feeling pinched. And I stop and breathe and think and take notes, ratchet everything back and start over and see the positive that starting over isn't starting from the beginning. I know what to do. Starting again is remembering.