In my early twenties, I used to think I was pretty sharp. I seemed to be able to think quickly, make snap decisions, knew what I thought I wanted. In my early thirties I felt even more confident in my mental processing. Now, in my early forties, I'm beginning to see what aging is all about. It is humility. It is taking what you knew, and proving that nothing on this earth is to be taken for granted, nothing is permanent, and nothing is reliable.
My mind is failing me. I am becoming more forgetful, more cluttered in my thinking and far less decisive. And I find myself giving up. Rather than put myself out there and let people down, including myself, I'd rather just not. If you don't make a promise, you will never break one. My "flying by the seat of my pants" lifestyle is failing me, and I'm seriously afraid that one day I'll forget to don the essential said pants.
I believe the answer is a routine. A set schedule that I follow with the complete self discipline that I apparently lack. But I don't know where to start, or if I even want to. A find myself speaking the words of a depressed woman, "Is there a point?". And yet I only need to look at my kids and know there is a point, for I owe it to them. And of course, I owe it to my God, who has gifted me with breath this day.
So, tomorrow I will follow the theory of The Fly Lady by taking baby steps, and I will ride on the coat tails of determination of my friend Heather. I will begin with one new habit - getting up at 7:30. Each week I will build in one more new habit until I reach a life that is structured, healthy, and productive. And I will report it here for accountability. Either that, or I'll forget, in which case you can assume my brain has indeed turn to mush.
Photograph: Lavender
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