Feeling My Age
I’ve been feeling my age lately.
It’s not that it‘s really showing quite yet, but my bones are saying, “you’re the deep kinda tired that comes with age.”
I’ve strained in front of more computer screens, laughed at more dumb jokes, cried alongside more broken hearts, and squinted through more cheap sunglasses than the average 25-year old I occasionally pass for.
The lines haven’t settled in yet, but I see where they will. On days when I’m tired or worn out, my skin feels like soft butter left on the counter on a hot day.
I've been feeling my age lately.
I feel like I should be more freaked out about aging, but instead, I feel a sense of relief.
Some days I still feel upset that I haven’t done “enough” with my life, but most days I just feel the sweet surrender of settling into quiet routines with my partner and our dogs.
What age has given me, besides soft butter skin and a tired body, is mental strength I didn't have before: surrender to the now and joy in the little things.
I guess you can say I've been feeling my age both inside and out.