Sometimes Being Responsible is Overrated

We’re all so damn responsible, you know? Work, kids, volunteering, chores, yard work, taxes, home repairs, car maintenance. Sometimes it feels like the shit never ends.

And it doesn’t. Until you die.

In the immortal words of Prince, “We are gathered here today, to get through this thing called life.”

Life. It’s not just about slogging through the day-to-day drudgery of adulting. Life is about living and sometimes that means being irresponsible once in awhile. Because Prince also advises us to, “Let’s go crazy!”

For Jenny and I, that sometimes means blowing off work and being wild for a day. Our version of wild and your version of wild are probably different, and that’s cool. For us, we might go boating with the wind and spray in our faces. It might mean we go into the city and do something new and different. Maybe we’ll try new foods or cocktails and stay up way too late. Sometimes it means we’ll stay home, roll a fattie, laugh our asses off while watching a comedy, and then have amazing sex.

Whatever helps you get through life, man, embrace it. Give up adulting for a day. Remember the good things in life. Go crazy. No one on their deathbed every wished they’d worked harder and never taken a break.

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The Big Five-oh Bitchfest of 2016

Jack and I turned 50 in mid-2016. Jack took it in stride. I, on the other hand, had to be drug kicking and screaming into midlife. I know it’s just a number, and you’re only as old as you feel, and all the other platitudes people say to make each other not hate 50 so much. But to me, it sucked. Life is moving way too quickly! Where did the time go? We still have so much to do!

Anyway, fast-forward to December of 2016 and my big realization…I had just spent six solid months bitching about being 50 and all the things that were happening to my body: I’m heading into menopause and the hot flashes damn near killed me. I started having hip pain. My left foot went bad. I developed tennis elbow even though I’ve never played more than a few hours during gym class. I needed a stronger magnification for my reading glasses. My skin got dryer. I began to need occasional vag gel for dryness there as well. My hair got thinner. Both shoulders ached at different points during the year. Believe me, if there was something for me to bitch about, I did. And I felt like it was constant.

By body was beginning to betray me. I felt like the warranty had expired!

But more than that, I started to irritate the shit out of myself with so much bitching. It dawned on me one day while Jack and I were hittin’ the laughing grass and waxing poetic that I had done nothing but complain about being 50 and the things that were happening to my body! EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. And damn, that’s no way to go through life. It’s a wonder that Jack didn’t leave me, what, with all that bitching.

I forced myself to buck up and stop complaining. I just had to. Even I couldn’t even stand my own bitching any longer. Sure, I still want to, and there is still plenty of stuff to gripe about, but…I have shut the hell up about it. Mostly. Because really, I need to maintain my sunny outlook on life.

This year we’ll be 51. I’m not happy about that number either. It’s even bigger than 50! Fifty plus one. But, as I’m always reminded, it’s better than the alternative. And as God is my witness, I will NOT lose my shit this year.

How have you coped with getting older? What age hit you hard?

Peace!

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