home{more or}less
{reverb11 – day 14}
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When did you feel most at home this year:
in your life, in your space, in your career, in your skin?
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Since I already wrote about where I feel most at home this year (here), I’m going to flip this prompt on its side and write about where I feel LEAST at home.
Apparently, it’s in my own skin.
I hate photos of myself, even all doctored-up and prettified ones like the one above. Really, I’ve always been that way, but it has definitely gotten worse as I’ve gotten… ahem, older.
I no longer feel at home in this body that is breaking down much more quickly than my mind.
Inside, I still feel 25. I think this is Mother Nature’s sense of humor. We get the wisdom of age with a body that is too tired to act on it. Just when we start to feel comfortable with who we are, finally, our bodies turn on us, slapping us in the face for getting fresh and thinking we could do all the things we did when we were young.
I want to run, every day. Even every other day is a struggle now, knees and hips and muscles stay sore, need rest, complain loudly.
Parts start to wear out, those knees and hips, teeth and eyes. And I won’t even go into the sagging. Or the money I’ve spent on face creams and their promises, promises. Photoshop helps, managing to hide the flaws and wrinkles and extra skin. At least a little. And that’s a good thing.
The problem is, my mind hasn’t caught up to my body. This body that is home to my soul. A soul that is still working to stay airborne. A body keeps me tethered to the ground, calling me home with shouts and exhaustion, aches and admonishment.
Often, I find myself looking at my body with derision. Scorn. Anger.
Asking, why can’t you keep up?
And so it is.
I suppose I will get over it eventually. Settle in to this skin that is more wrinkled than smooth, more loose than firm, more dry than elastic.
But I have a feeling that by the time I reach that point, it will be time for my soul to fly on its own.
So for now, I will simply call a truce with those wrinkles, those weary bones, those aching muscles. We will agree to disagree and move on. We will be roommates out of necessity, sharing days and weeks and years.
But I’m keeping my face cream all to myself.
Take that, Mother Nature.
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December 14th, 2011 at 10:56 am
You are perfection in every form.
December 14th, 2011 at 10:57 am
loved this one. like you, i am at home IN my home, and more like you, it is my body that i feel LEAST at home with. i don’t really mind the aging. it is the painful knees, the glasses, the sagging, that comes with it. sometimes i look in the mirror and wonder WHO is looking back at me. also like you, i resist at nearly any photos of me. there are very few. in my minds eye, i don’t look like that. i sure DO not look like my drivers license photo. i loved your views on this.
December 14th, 2011 at 11:03 am
i just love the word “tethered.” tethered to a past, tethered to hope, just plain tethered….loved this post, kelly.
December 14th, 2011 at 11:07 am
It *is* very interesting, isn’t it??? I managed to skate away pretty clear of the visual effects of aging until my very late 40’s. And I see myself in the mirror constantly, when I go to wash my hands in between clients. I look up & go “Huh!! Really???” Sometimes pull the skin back with my hands to see “what if” But here it is. Strange, but I just accept it is my turn to be the eldress of my tribe. That comes with a certain “look”, I guess…
December 14th, 2011 at 11:21 am
well, look at those eyes, my dear! clear and gorgeous, even if they can’t see anything up close, which is my biggest complaint about aging. glasses. squinting. although i remember an old archie bunker bit, edith complaining about looking older, about lines and lumps & bumps, and archie tells her well, he can’t even see those anyway, that it is god’s way of even-ing things out. i try to remind myself of that when things look particularly saggy.
and thank god for photoshop. the new age girdle.
xoxo
December 14th, 2011 at 11:49 am
I can so relate to my soul and body being necessary roommates (and not being too happy about it)!
December 14th, 2011 at 12:13 pm
Reading this a second time and it’s just as powerful and I can so relate to the emotions. Thanks for sharing so generously. Makes a difference over here.
December 14th, 2011 at 12:29 pm
I say run when you can and rest when you can’t. Keep telling Mother Nature to kiss it.
December 14th, 2011 at 12:56 pm
It’s all about how we feel on the inside…and you are definitely young-at-heart!!!
December 14th, 2011 at 1:41 pm
i think it is a very common feeling. looking in the mirror and wondering who is that nice old looking stranger…. I think it’s greatly to do with our culture’s adoration of youth. We just can’t seem to find beauty in any of the signs of aging because no one has EVER told us that any of it is beautiful…
maybe we shoudl start a revolution. maybe we should start flaunting… maybe if we see what everyone’s not photoshopped body and face looks like we’ll feel normal again….maybe
December 14th, 2011 at 1:54 pm
For the record, when I saw this photo of you, my heart jumped and I thought, “Kelly! How gorgeous! But no real surprise there …” Thank you for sharing yourself, in your skin, with us here. You are gorgeous and don’t let anything or anyone tell you otherwise. 🙂
December 14th, 2011 at 4:11 pm
wait, this is you??? have we ever seen you before? i thought for sure you were a blonde, but instead you are a sassy redhead….who knew 🙂
i love this post….and the honesty behind it. we all really need to get our minds and our bodies on the same page…especially those 50 year old women who think they can wear their teenage daughter’s clothes.
xoxoxo
December 14th, 2011 at 4:46 pm
The one thing that having gained some of that ‘wisdom’ earns us is a license to chuckle at our younger, foolish selves. Myself, I’d rather not be young again. I’m pretty comfortable where I am now.
Except for all the stupid choices I made and the consequences, of course. 🙂
December 14th, 2011 at 7:13 pm
you are beautiful. whether i see you through one of your eyes, through your words, through your jewelry, through your photographs, or through an intentionally-made-hazy picture of your face, you are beautiful. beautiful, i tell you.
December 14th, 2011 at 9:21 pm
I am in this exact same place.
December 15th, 2011 at 8:40 am
Amen, sister!
December 15th, 2011 at 12:38 pm
You look great! And you have great hair. And thankfully, being creative sends positive shockwaves through our whole existence, telling us, “oh right, duh! it’s what’s inside that counts!”
December 15th, 2011 at 7:57 pm
you and me, sister. walking side by side in this…this quest for comfort with the soul’s home.
as per usual, perfectly said. xxoo
December 15th, 2011 at 9:34 pm
I understand, I’ve never liked my pictures either. And, well, the body thing… and I’m fifty now. Sheesh.
But I suppose pictures aren’t for ourselves, are they? We are unfair to ourselves, judging.
I love your picture. You’re beautiful.
December 17th, 2011 at 8:15 pm
A good face cream is a good thing indeed.
I also dislike having my photo taken. The body thing? I don’t feel so much at war with it as you seem to be. And you look so beautiful.