The View From Here
61: The Scramble
Whenever I want to resist that first born daughter, first generation American, gifted child propensity to be unnecessarily clever, I slip into a bit of
. Her writing is vulnerable and well constructed without the fluff or need to impress. Whereas I write like it’ll be graded, I admire pared down and concise writing that cuts to the point, like hers. Sometimes fluff is merely adornment, but like my idol Stephen King says, it’s because we’re afraid of small words. Big words don’t mean saying more.The View from Here is the curse of midlife, what I’ll call The Scramble. It feels like bearing down at a crossroads where you have to finally decide where the hell you’re going and if those personal legends about yourself are even true. It’s a mental scramble, where the indecisive and cautious among us are paralyzed with either a pathetic selection of potential life choices or decision paralysis where every road is not quite right.
I told someone recently that I want my life to look different next year. That’s another side of The Scramble, the hurry to have what you never did. Whether it’s blue bangs, a new mindset, or a new apartment, I want my life to shift. It’s that splinter in the brain The Wachowskis introduced to the world and I have to dig deep to know what’s just beyond my view.
The Mental
Sometimes, dear reader, I want to tell you how bad I’m feeling so that there’s some release, that I can let out what’s aching inside. I don’t want to do that anymore. I’m going to tell you that I had a shitty go of it, but that I didn’t die. I will tell that circumstance to shove it and bruise my knuckles on its chin. My own cheekbone will sting from the returned sucker punch and I’ll be in need of a metaphorical cigarette, but I’ll grit my teeth and keep going because there’s no use giving up on fights I can win.
Earlier last month was particularly grating. Everyday was some fresh annoyance and my whole body felt it. I was a miserable bitch and kind of enjoyed my gentle float on expletives. So metal. One Friday, low on motivation to even crawl my way to lunch, I quickly headed to a local spot for a lavender latte with oat milk. It was the caffeinated lift I needed to get through the day. There was no great revelation, only the satisfaction of having scraped by on mediocrity because sometimes pursuits are shallow. Sometimes you don’t need philosophy, just a damn coffee.
The Psychological
A difficult question I was finally able to answer recently was: Who are you?
The simple answer is… I’m a human. I am a human first with all the baked in contradictions and elegant simplicities. Seems stupidly obvious, but if you strip away job titles and relationships to others, what’s left?
Someone laughed at me once for saying “I can do what I want now”, scoffing that we’re adults and absolutely can. Only they were wrong, because a lot of us don’t give ourselves permission for that. We have been strapped down tight with obligation to the rules we were instilled with. We walk the straight lines and haven’t thought there was any other path. To cross into the untrodden wood is bravery when you are unprepared and scared. I was really saying I wasn’t scared anymore. But there was little time for deep conversation at a barn house wedding reception in the middle of the afternoon.
Self-discovery can also mean the process of becoming more yourself. We don’t become fully formed at 30 and still change over and over. We realize we want different things out of life but making that change can be daunting. Can I still do this? What we’re really asking is if it’s too late to become and the answer is no. We have more time than we think even if our lives as 1984 babies in America is statistically half over.
The Physical
I’m running now and making very slow progress toward a 10-minute mile. With this endeavor is the realization that my joints need care. I have to focus on strengthening them just as much as my running form. My knees often betray me but I wonder if I’m just unkind. So I wait it out until they’re better and there’s no ache, work my quads slowly with heavy weights, and prioritize recuperation. Your body often teaches you about the care you should have always taken.
The focus has been health alone in my fitness journey. You’ll find no thigh gap or thin waist. What you’ll find is my cholesterol is normal. My triglycerides are down. The goal is to have markers of health outside what my body looks like.
A long time ago, I made peace with my body and thanked it for how well it served me. Two babies, a thyroid condition, depression fatigue, and backbreaking stress. It’s holding up beautifully with muscle definition creeping into my legs and arms. The momma pouch remains but means success, not failure. There’s the tattoo above it to remind me.
Celebrations and the Future
I’ll be 40 in October and finally feel the pendulum swinging. I won’t talk about aging because there are people who don’t get blessed with wrinkles or gray hairs, but I will say that the gravity of time is weighing on me. I find myself saying this very often: the time is short. I really believe that and don’t want to waste any more time.
The FLARE is three and it’s toddling along on its own. I have vague plans but direction nonetheless which has taken the fear out of this venture. Even so, shifts in my life mean slowing down here occasionally. It was quiet celebration this year with just some time away, which was needed. I have a books inside that need to come out and they will, little by little, but for now, it’s about building discipline here to get me through those long stretches of text.
I am happy with where The FLARE is and hope you are too. The rest is a work in progress.
See ya,
What’s next?
Fiction! With a side of voiceover maybe??
Novel update (Gosh, remember that?)
I love this for so many reasons and my being mentioned is lowest on the list. We are most lucky to witness your humanity, my dear. Well-rested baddie energy COMMENCE 💥
First, I want you to know this post is brave. And you're an amazing person whether you let it out this way or not.
Next, you should know a phrase I hold dear that came to me years ago when things were low. It's a good mantra when the world/your body/the weight of it all bears down. Let it go with a flip and say, I do what I can, sometimes less. (then breathe)
As I stare down the sights at 50 later this week, I feel you. Just know that you're *always* changing. It never ends and in that you're becoming something new all the time. All-the-freakin'-time. Hooray for that, right?
Thanks for sharing with us, Chevanne.