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They stay up to embrace the magic of the night and sleep through the uneventful day.”
Teenagers were the absolute worst. It was like an alien had come to earth one day, picked up my loving boy, and replaced him with a stinky, hairy mutant.
The courage of a mother could not be measured. We toiled in the background, day in and day out, without thanks, so our children could become their best selves. We sacrificed ourselves for our loved ones, and we did it silently. Gladly. Full of love.
“Age is only a number, Jess. Don’t let it define you. You are only as old as you feel.”
our only limitations are those we set for ourselves.”
I sucked in a breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding.
“I…can’t imagine, but I…am…supportive of imagining.”
Because the truth was, I didn’t want the solution to midlife to be young again. I wanted to be accepted for being my age. I wanted it to be okay for a woman to have wrinkles. Graying hair. A few sagging areas due to child birth and the passing of years.
As a woman excited to start this new chapter, I wanted to feel…normal. Accepted.
I didn’t feel accepted. I didn’t feel acknowledged for my service in raising the next generation, for my active role in the community, or even for being human sometimes. I felt utterly ignored. I felt invisible or, worse, frowned upon. Most of the time, when I looked in the mirror, I saw only my flaws. I...
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Stop being ignored. Raise your voice until you are heard. Look however you want—be whoever you want—and demand people pay attention to you.
I’d never really been supported like this in my adult life—I’d always fallen into the supportive role. So I hadn’t realized how much it helped. How good it felt to have the people around me lift me up when life was trying to batter me down.
