I’ve always been a bit of a quitter. I start things that I don’t always finish. As a kid I took one guitar lesson, a couple of painting classes. I signed up to dance in a talent show at the community center and just never went. Of course I’d never taken a dance lesson in my life, but I was convinced I could channel my inner Martha Graham and wing it. Until I wasn’t. I signed up to be a volunteer, because it’s clear from every Oprah show I’ve ever seen that giving back makes life worthwhile. I haven’t done a second of volunteer work and every time I see Oprah on TV or the newsstands, I want to kick her in the shins. Today, I walked away from
a group I’ve been a part of for several years. A group of 4 women who met in Weight Watchers and felt the need for deeper reflection and exploration. It has been a tremendous blessing in my life and I owe a lot of my growth to this group of women. But more and more, other things got in the way. And as another member pointed out, I didn’t fight hard enough for this little piece of time on a Saturday morning. I felt defensive at first, until I realized she was right. I didn’t have to like how that made me feel, but I had to face the truth. I wasn’t as committed as the other three were and yet I didn’t want to leave. Perhaps because I wouldn’t be a part of something. At least not that something. But when I decided to step away, I felt a great sense of relief. Until I didn’t. It is certainly true that it wasn’t working for me anymore. It is also true that personal feelings were making it harder to be objective. Leaving feels like the right move. Until it doesn’t. Or maybe it does, but it still makes me really sad. And that’s ok. Even when you are absolutely sure that moving on is the right choice, it doesn’t always feel good. So, how do you know for sure? How do I know if I’m listening to my heart or hearing only the monkey chatter in my head, moving on or giving up? Making the touch choices or taking the easy way out? How does anyone really know? Except for Oprah.

On The Fence
carynjune

So this morning, as I’m getting ready, I decide to pluck a few of the wild eyebrow hairs I inherited from my dad. I get dressed, put on a little lipstick, and do a last minute check in the mirror and what do I see nestled in my hair? A big gray eyebrow hair. No big deal. I’ll just pull it off. This proves to be a little harder than it sounds. Every time I try and grab that sucker, it seems to get more entrenched in my hair. And the more I play with my hair, the more static-y and flyaway it gets. So now I look like I stuck my finger in a light socket and there’s a big gray eyebrow hair taking up residence on my head. These are the horrors of aging that no one ever tells you about. Oh, sure we talk about losing our parents, our spouses, worrying about retirement, getting sick, dying. But does anyone really speak of the truly scary stuff? The crepe-y skin on your neck. The lumps and bumps and hair that appear in odd places and never go away. The little “oy” that escapes you every time you get up. The hemorrhoids, the gas! Oh the humanity! There are those who embrace aging with grace and dignity. Who accept each line and crack as hard-earned, a sign of wisdom and beauty. There are those who hold on to youth with every ounce of strength and money they possess. They nip, they tuck, they wear the perpetual ear-to-ear smile and surprised expression of one too many face lifts, while their hands and their husbands give away their real age. I’m somewhere in between. I color my hair, I dress in a loose, funky style that I consider hip and young, but which my nieces probably roll their eyes at as crazy. Would I try plastic surgery? Maybe, if I had the money. But when I look at my face, including those ridiculous eyebrows, I see my dad. And that hair? The spare tire, the dowager’s hump? My mom. I am a patchwork quilt of those who came before me. And I will be part of the quilt that my nieces will wrap around themselves throughout their lives. And even when they are worn and faded and a little threadbare, they’ll still keep them warm.

Patchwork Quilt Series: a Sample
carynjune