It’s a backward race – but why?

***Or “My confidential Self”, as my daughter titled it***

I am about to experience my 40th spring. The first ‘New Decade Spring’. A spring as powerful as one can only imagine. It is the time for the New. Mother Nature is waking up from her deep winter sleep. We will witness new growth, new beginnings, a new cycle is starting. The days are getting longer, everything is growing… Boy am I excited.

What am I trying to say though? It is a new decade (I know, I said this plenty of times – but can you tell how incredibly stoked I am just simply about this fact?!?!?). The past decade was spent more than three quarters stripping off old habits, patterns, ways. Many people were left behind, new people were put in my path, many things have changed. For most, I figured out how to apply what I have learned in a way it works good for me, my being – not how it works well for others or how it is expected. The past decade was filled with hurt and tears. Hurt so unbearable I learned what it means to feel alive. Tears so many, I was able to cleanse myself with. The shell I had around me was broken down into pieces, crushed. A safe and secure force accompanied me through each and every struggle I have lived through. Life has been manifested by myself in a way, so beautiful, I never thought could exist – because I finally comprehended the hard lessons learned. Now, this is the time to apply (well, I used to think the 20s you learn and the 30s you apply but another thing I have discovered is, in your 30s you learn even more, just in a very different, unexpected way).

So I come back to now, looking forward to turning 40, the first spring of the new decade. And this is what has been on my mind for so many months, even years. Today, this is ringing more and more true.

It was two years ago, a teenager – one of my oldest sons acquaintances, whom I do not know… he walked up to my kid and asked him, with me standing just about 3 or 4 feet behind “Dude, where the hell did you find that hot chick”, my son responding laughing hard “Ay! Careful, that’s my mom”. Needless to say the other kid was embarrassed. It was only last year, I was questioned by a gentleman, maybe a little younger than my dad, if I even know what I am talking about when it comes to raising kids. At that point my oldest was 16. Not to say I know what I’m doing, yet my mother hat has been worn for a while now. To top it off, this past Holiday season, my husband and I were questioned in a very unprofessional way by a lady, maybe in her 60s, on how we were running our business -only providing email instead of a phone number was her biggest concern. After explaining we own a homestead, have 4 kids, animals, two properties in our name, building off the grid in the forest, she became very reserved and blushed: “Oh my! I clearly made way too many assumptions, I thought you guys were just some young kids starting out on their adventure”- that was her seeing us vending our dog supplies.

My entire issue about these pre- observations, my personal standing to an ever so pre judging, age shaming (nowadays, when young, hair is colored gray, when natural grays appear they are being covered up?? HUH, what??) world is this:

People run from it…All. The. Time. Life has turned into a competition of wanting to look young, not getting older, covering it up and seeing incorrect presumptions as a glittery compliment! It turned into this backwards race of always wanting to be this P(retty) Y(oung) T(hing)…Rather shooting chemicals under the skin for less ‘timelines’, cutting into the body to alter it’s appearance, hmm. It is actually really sad. Considering the alternative. What is the alternative? To be dead. Now. Or in two days, 6 months, or at age 42, like my Mama, or at maybe 41, like Kobe Bryant, the 16 year old I used to babysit when she was a little girl, dying due to consequences of a car accident – or should we mention all the people that have lost lives at the mere age of 27 – like Amy Winehouse, Jimi Hendrix, Janice Joplin, Kurt Cobain…we all know this list is way too long.

Seriously though, I’ve personally been through a lot of sh!t, which I am sure off everybody had their fair share of. The 17, 25, 32 year old, very naive me helped me learn (ok, I learned the lessons then and how to apply tools later) to unfold ‘Lenii’. First, let me state, some more than just 4 gray hairs at the age of 39 and some months would in deed be lovely. I also don’t want to be carded because I don’t feel I look under 21. No, it’s not a compliment. Thirdly, I don’t want to be a super skinny size 0 wearing hot chick. My body created three kids, went through a twin pregnancy – all birthed vaginally, while one was breech, one without any pain management, and my boobs are sagging. I have a muffin top, a little…Ay! Does that not come with the territory? Is this getting too personal? TMI? (We just have to really face the truth :)) My body is ‘soft’ hahaha, it is. Still, my hubby loves it. I can do some pull ups which means I can carry my own weight. We don’t eat processed food and a lot of sugar. Most of our foods are homegrown/raised and homemade from scratch…I despise cigarettes but enjoy some wine, or maybe a beer every now and then- and a lil self medicating never hurt anybody either. Oh, did I just say that?! My duties, responsibilities get done in a timely fashion and I get dirty. Really dirty! We work hard, getting up at 4 am! But whatever. What I am trying to say is, I feel great! A few more grays would in deed be wonderful. I am raising kids, dealing with life just as everybody else is, and after a while they should be like a well earned trophy. I wear my four gray hairs with immense pride, as ridiculous this may sound. My hair has been colored twice in my life, before I was even 25. But I didn’t get a damn thing out of it. To me, it is about feeling confident in my own skin. Beauty products can’t be found in the bathroom here, some natural items, sure – but nothing to make crowfeet disappear. Being healthy with a great balance of physical activity, eating good, real food, and digging my hands and feet in the ground is more than sufficient. The more I listen to the mother, the little signs and hints provided along this road, the more I realize what is made for profit, not the wellbeing. And: We must be creative as well as sit with ourselves, breathe and Be. Regularly. Its the counter part to existing in this mad but lovely world. Time is manmade…let’s just embrace evolving. Let’s embrace being here, let’s embrace age.

This spring is the time. The time to see sprouts of my manifested intentions. The time to continue unfolding Lenii. The time to love the self even louder. The time to compare less. The time to compete less. The time to just Be more. The time to stop the race against time itself. Embrace the crone, woman!!

*again, this is not to say my way is the right way. I am aware there is a lot of I and Me and My in this post…This is my path to unfolding myself and my thoughts. Kinda like a journal. Don’t take it personal -and maybe, if you do, it rings some truth for you as well 😉 I love you Woman!

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