Falling for me
A high school friend recently texted a photo of a moment that had long escaped my memory. Twelve teenage girls, strategically reposing on the steps of a church altar, dressed in identical (pastel color of choice) eyelet floor-length dresses (of course, my choice, pink), holding a single white carnation, ‘cheesing’ for the photographer. A friend’s daughter was getting married, and we were singing.
I pinch the screen to zoom in, and I cackle at the fashion and festivity. I have scanned it dozens of times in hopes of recalling names, but most escape me. Some, I only remember because of how they made me feel. Some, that is, not all. I was in my usual spot; the fat girl on the end, away from the pretty girls, never the center of attention, always with room to spread out.
Maya Angelou, you were so right about forgetting names but remembering feelings.
Fifty years later, that girl’s reflection occasionally appears in my mirror, but I refuse to allow her to stay. “You’re going to turn out better than you think, little girl,” I whisper respectfully to the mirror. “Bumpy but better. I promise, you’ll reach the other side.”
And with this fresh reminder of my past, I commence my October ritual. Rather than January, fall resets my world. Routines return, temperatures cool and hues inspire. As a self-proclaimed planner, I attack life’s upcoming intentions, reflecting on lessons learned and promises made and prepare to let go of the things that don’t enrich my life.
At 66, I estimate I’m on my third or fourth lifetime, meaning opportunities given with successes and failures logged. The rebuilding of my life has been constant over the past two decades, and it’s turning out better than I could have imagined. I’ve authored three books, began (from scratch) a photography career in my mid-50s in the midst of a sea of youngsters, remodeled my professional life three times in the last 20 years, and I’m not done yet.
To put it in perspective, my youth was spent doing what was expected of a young woman growing up in the 1970s—get married, teach school, start a family. I did all of that, and it was good for the longest . . . until it fell apart. Long story short, at the age of 48, I found myself alone, jobless and struggling to discover a reason to get out of bed each morning.
The thing about being raised by older Southern parents, grounded in Christian principles and a steadfast work ethic, choices are limited to only one: the right one. In the midst of a frustrated life, I work up one morning, and the right choice became crystal clear. Either pull the covers over your head or fight for this precious life you’ve been given. That was almost 20 years ago, and as I have aged, the fight has only intensified. Realizing that time is my most precious yet least afforded commodity, I understand that my bounty will be equivalent to the work I put into it.
So, to that chunky girl on the end who questioned her worth, her 66-year-old self would remind her that her character will be revealed by scenarios only encountered in her nightmares, but she will rise. And right smack dab in the middle of her sixth decade, life will be extraordinary but only if she remains focused.
In all things, have no expectations, a sure recipe for not being disappointed; it took a long time, but understanding this curated my peace. Stop chasing people’s approval; in their end, yours is the only one that matters. Live in the moment and don’t overshare or explain; it’s no one’s business what fills your heart and your days. Everything good takes time, and if it doesn’t happen on your timeline, that’s okay. You will recover. You’re stronger than you think, and when you’re tested, resilience will guide you to the other side. And for heaven’s sake, let go of things and people that clutter and demean your life. Every thing must have a purpose, a positive purpose.
Never put things off, a lesson my mother preached time and again, and would chuckle now that I finally get it. Never, ever postpone life. Take that trip now. Walk the Camino de Santiago now. Learn to weave now. Start that photography business now. Determine life’s non-negotiables—like personal health, boundaries, relationships— and never abandon them. People will tell you that what happens to you is not personal. Take it from me, if you are invested in something, it’s all personal.
Those are the big things, but it’s the day-to-day that constructs my backbone. Rise early, and before the wilds of responsibilities consume the day, walk in the sunshine, embrace a sunflower’s character, and look up with gratitude. Sip your coffee slowly and listen to the bird’s sing. Begin each day with intention, dress with style regardless of whether you walk outside the house, wear that special jewelry that has remained untouched for years, write your daily schedule in your notebook and mark through each accomplishment when complete. A task marked through is the ultimate validation, and it simply feels good.
Fresh flowers are always on my desk, and there’s a likelihood of candles burning somewhere nearby. Break the rules and have cappuccino after lunch, have an aperitivo at afternoon’s end, and remember, no one is watching and even if they were, who cares? Indulge in that piece of chocolate before bedtime and put the screen away long before you close your eyes. Create spaces that comfort and inspire you; glance at that photo or ticket stub every day and remember. Don’t put memories in cardboard boxes underneath beds. Love those that love you, call those that call you, visit those who never leave you. You only get one shot at this life.
So, this season, I’m falling for me. No one else. I will recall the lessons that took me decades to learn, and while doing so, offering that girl in the mirror hope for a lifetime of endless possibilities. And when I do see her reflection in my mirror, I’ll remind her that she survived and did so beautifully.
