I've finally learned to accept it.
I guess that’s just part of being young. And inexperienced. You don’t realize you can survive—until you do.
I’ve finally learned to accept it. Feels good, too.
I guess that’s just part of being young. And inexperienced. You don’t realize you can survive—until you do.
Ask anyone in their 80’s and they’ll tell you they were just mere babes in their 40’s. I agree. Ish. Sure, I can now pinch a quarter in-between my forehead creases that are now permanent. Roll a marble down my laugh lines. Yes, I not only found a couple gray hairs on my head, but also one or two in my eyebrows—a clear mark of decay. It’s like my body is starting to throw in the towel way too soon, sprawled out, hopeless. “Why even bother making pigment?” it seems to be saying. “Look how saggy her boobs are now, we’re done!” Super dramatic, but whatever. MY POINT IS—despite all this, I’m still young(ish), but old enough now that I’m not quite as dumb. I’ve learned some things, and I think age is helping it stick this time.
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I was trying to put my finger on what changed. There was something different about the way I saw things, there was a new way in which I interacted and responded to life. Things I used to stew over for days now barely made it on my radar. As I was speaking at a church’s women retreat, it finally clicked.
I now accept reality. It’s simple, really. Not at all profound.
That doesn’t mean I settle for reality. It doesn’t mean I don’t fight for better. For healing, for justice, for family, for a dream.
Accepting reality doesn’t mean losing faith. Or giving up.
But it does mean I stop acting so shocked, so devastated. So victimized, when my current reality is a bit less than I’ve hoped for.
I accept what’s happened and keep going.
Life is, and always will be, a game of Chutes and Ladders.
I will hit ladders, I will hit chutes. Sometimes I’ll hit a few ladders in a row and stack up some wins. Sometimes I’ll hit nothing but chutes, spiraling past where I started. And the worst part is the sun’s been beating on those slides all day and they ain’t greased. It burns! My dimpled thighs screeching all the way down. But, I know that happens now. It’s a thing. I keep baby oil on me at all times, just in case.
Up and down, up up up up and down, down down down down down and up.
It’s okay to cry like my Lucy and Poppy do every time we play the game. But if we cry for too long, the truth is, we start to ruin the fun for everybody else, especially ourselves. Looking at you, Lucy Boo.
Do we have the faith to keep playing, or not? Can we, God forbid, learn to lighten up and have fun?
I’ve accepted that getting in the best shape of my life will be the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do and require a discipline I’ve never had before. I’ve accepted it won’t take two months to lose excess pounds to reach my body’s ideal weight, more like two years— the scale snapping up and down like a lie detector test all the live long days. I mean, it’s not great, but it’s the game. What did I expect? A ladder straight to the top? Pffft, girl please.
I know better now.
I learned my professional career is the same, of course. Ladder, ladder, ladder, chute. Chute, chute, chute.
Shoot.
My relationships, my health. My finances. Chutes, ladders.
I used to fear chutes so bad. And the drama when I’d hit them! You’d think my village had just been pillaged, but it’s just a Tuesday afternoon and a disappointing email.
I’ve accepted chutes for what they are—an opportunity to shore up my faith, continue to learn and master whatever endeavor I’m facing, and chalk it up as an opportunity to prepare for the top of the next ladder that comes my way.
Because if you keep playing, and don’t give up… the ladder always comes. Might as well step up the rung with confidence, I say.
During early COVID Rob was “permanently furloughed” – which is a nice way of getting laid off. It was devastating. Not just for his sense of pride as a provider, but it set off a chain of events that put one foot on new debt with the other on a banana peel.
Silly us, we thought we were past this kind of instability, having previously climbed ladders that built us a strong foundation. We took that chute rather hard. Plus, it was a loooooong, slow ride. Holding hands together as we went down didn’t make it any better, either. If anything, it just made the chute more intolerable, elbowing for space. But once we hit the ground, we kept rolling the dice, and weeks later he hit a ladder. I remember the chair I was sitting in when I got the idea. I recalled running into an old friend from college years ago and a comment she made floated to the surface. “There are a lot of high paying jobs in the realm of nursing that have very little to do with nursing—he doesn’t need to go back to school to become an NP [nurse practitioner].” I brushed off her comment because I thought he wanted to be an NP and he was already a year into the program. I was wrong though—he hated it and was pretending he didn’t.
I gave her a call (her number was still the same from college). “Anna!” she answered (I too have the same number since college). I blew through pleasantries and asked her if she wouldn’t mind going into more detail about that comment she made years ago, the one about high paying nursing jobs that have very little to do with nursing, etc. etc. “Well, it’s true,” she said. “In fact, we have openings now. Have Rob call me.” Within two weeks, Rob was hired at an amazing new company—getting paid more than he ever had, working from home. A job he loves and doesn’t secretly hate. I hope. I better ask him, now I’m paranoid.
Anyway, I’ve accepted chutes. Chutes, can be good. Just wait. You’ll see.
And the best part of these decaying forties? I’ve finally learned chutes only ruin you if you stop playing.
No need to panic. Just roll again.
Best part #2— I think it’s part of my calling, part of my gifting, to meet people at the end of their chute. Learning to laugh at my own follies and disappointments has helped others to realize the world hasn’t ended. Maybe, it’s just begun.
Not all chutes are ha ha hilarious, clearly. But many can be if you give it a little time and lighten up a bit. We’ll laugh about the burn they got on the back of their thighs. I’ll offer them some baby oil for next time. I’ll poke a little fun, “Did you hear that scream you belted out on your way down? It sounded like two cats mating on a roller coaster!” They won’t want to laugh, but they’ll have to admit they did sound a little bit like that. I’ll put my arm around them and help them back to the game table. Together, we’ll roll again. If we keep playing, we’ll eventually pocket some wins. And after we do, we’ll clear the game and start all over again. That’s life.
Chutes, could possibly be, my thing. Who knows.
It feels good to be all grown up. I’ll take these saggy ta ta’s over my taught 20s any day of the week.
xx
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