{"id":407,"date":"2015-10-22T10:50:00","date_gmt":"2015-10-22T10:50:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/2015\/10\/22\/yesterday-when-i-was-young\/"},"modified":"2020-10-28T17:40:54","modified_gmt":"2020-10-28T17:40:54","slug":"yesterday-when-i-was-young","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/2015\/10\/22\/yesterday-when-i-was-young\/","title":{"rendered":"Yesterday, When I Was Young"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"maple<\/a><\/div>\n

I looked in the mirror yesterday and saw my mother looking back at me. \u00a0It was horrifying. \u00a0Not because I hate my mother, I hasten to add, but because my mother is older and I am young. Or so I thought until I looked in the mirror last night. \u00a0I turned 45 this month (anyone who thought they were reading a blog written by someone young and cool, I am sorry.) \u00a0and I think the problem is that in my head I am still in my mid-twenties. \u00a0Sometimes I find myself talking to people in that age group and I feel like I fit in until I look around and realize…I could be their mother. \u00a0It is a weird feeling to perceive yourself one way and then realize that others perceive you completely differently. \u00a0I assume it only gets stranger as you get older. \u00a0My 90-year-old grandmother says she feels about 45 inside.<\/p>\n

My grandmother isn’t one to let age defeat her. \u00a0I hope I take after her. \u00a0She had a stroke a little over a year ago which left her in a wheelchair and basically paralyzed on her right side. \u00a0You would think she would have enough to do keeping up with physical therapy and relearning how to perform basic life skills but she has done so much more. \u00a0She had started writing poetry a few years ago and was determined to continue even though she couldn’t hold a pen anymore. \u00a0She got herself a tablet and learned how to use it. \u00a0She can type with her left hand. \u00a0It is time-consuming but she does it. \u00a0But the thing that really amazes me is that she has taught herself how to paint with her left hand. \u00a0She now has a whole wall of her artwork. Her enthusiasm for life has not diminished as she has gotten older.<\/p>\n

I guess what I am trying to say is that I know that life isn’t over at 45 but I think I need to figure out what it means to me to age gracefully. \u00a0That is different for everyone. \u00a0For me, it has little to do with whether I have gray hair (I have some and I don’t care) and everything to do with attitude and a zest for life. Is it too trite to say I want to be young at heart? \u00a0My grandmother is young at heart and because of that, people see past the 90-year-old body and see the person inside. \u00a0I think too often, once you reach a certain age, people just see the age and not the personality.<\/p>\n

I also think we live in a crazy world where men become distinguished as they get older and women just get old, or at least that is the common viewpoint. \u00a0Where is the fairness in that? \u00a0And if I think about it, maybe some of my concern about getting older is because of the emphasis the society we live in puts on appearance. \u00a0I know that in stores I frequently reach for clothes I like and then hesitate. \u00a0I don’t want to look like mutton dressed as lamb. (that expression makes me laugh. \u00a0I was hoping I could work it in.) \u00a0But then, why should women dress like an old ewe just because they are no longer 22? \u00a0I think I refuse to do that. \u00a0Wear what looks good on you and on your (current) body and leave it at that. \u00a0That is part of aging gracefully.<\/p>\n

I wouldn’t really want to go back to being 22 anyway. \u00a0I like the me I am now. \u00a0I am more confident, less concerned with fitting in, happier in my own skin even though that skin has a few stretch marks and scars.<\/p>\n

I am still going to be startled when I realize I am old enough to be the mother of a 25-year-old. \u00a0I still will fall back in shock when I see my mother’s face reflected at me in the mirror. But really, I am 45, I have gray hair, and I don’t care.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I looked in the mirror yesterday and saw my mother looking back at me. \u00a0It was horrifying. \u00a0Not because I hate my mother, I hasten to add, but because my mother is older and I am young. Or so I thought until I looked in the mirror last night. \u00a0I turned 45 this month (anyone who thought they were reading a blog written by someone young and cool, I am sorry.) \u00a0and I think the problem is that in my head I am still in my mid-twenties. \u00a0Sometimes I find myself talking to people in that age group and I feel like I fit in until I look around and realize…I could be their mother. \u00a0It is a weird feeling to perceive yourself one way and then realize that others perceive you completely differently. \u00a0I assume it only gets stranger as you get older. \u00a0My 90-year-old grandmother says she feels about 45 inside. My grandmother isn’t one to let age defeat her. \u00a0I hope I take after her. \u00a0She had a stroke a little over a year ago which left her in a wheelchair and basically paralyzed on her right side. \u00a0You would think she would have enough to do keeping up with physical therapy and relearning how to perform basic life skills but she has done so much more. \u00a0She had started writing poetry a few years ago and was determined to continue even though she couldn’t hold a pen anymore. \u00a0She got herself a tablet and learned how to use it. \u00a0She can type with her left hand. \u00a0It is time-consuming but she does it. \u00a0But the thing that really amazes me is that she has taught herself how to paint with her left hand. \u00a0She now has a whole wall of her artwork. Her enthusiasm for life has not diminished as she has gotten older. I guess what I am trying to say is that I know that life isn’t over at 45 but I think I need to figure out what it means to me to age gracefully. \u00a0That is different for everyone. \u00a0For me, it has little to do with whether I have gray hair (I have some and I don’t care) and everything to do with attitude and a zest for life. Is it too trite to say I want to be young at heart? \u00a0My grandmother is young at heart and because of that, people see past the 90-year-old body and see the person inside. \u00a0I think too often, once you reach a certain age, people just see the age and not the personality. I also think we live in a crazy world where men become distinguished as they get older and women just get old, or at least that is the common viewpoint. \u00a0Where is the fairness in that? \u00a0And if I think about it, maybe some of my concern about getting older is because of the emphasis the society we live in puts on appearance. \u00a0I know that in stores I frequently reach for clothes I like and then hesitate. \u00a0I don’t want to look like mutton dressed as lamb. (that expression makes me laugh. \u00a0I was hoping I could work it in.) \u00a0But then, why should women dress like an old ewe just because they are no longer 22? \u00a0I think I refuse to do that. \u00a0Wear what looks good on you and on your (current) body and leave it at that. \u00a0That is part of aging gracefully. I wouldn’t really want to go back to being 22 anyway. \u00a0I like the me I am now. \u00a0I am more confident, less concerned with fitting in, happier in my own skin even though that skin has a few stretch marks and scars. I am still going to be startled when I realize I am old enough to be the mother of a 25-year-old. \u00a0I still will fall back in shock when I see my mother’s face reflected at me in the mirror. But really, I am 45, I have gray hair, and I don’t care.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":502,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_uf_show_specific_survey":0,"_uf_disable_surveys":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[38,65,13,70,59],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-407","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-about-me","category-grandma","category-life","category-me","category-mutterings"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/407","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=407"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/407\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2926,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/407\/revisions\/2926"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/502"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=407"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=407"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=407"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}