I Feel Good in the Skin that I’m In

My friend said to me at lunch today, “How long have we known each other? We met in what, 1988? I mean, think of all the iterations we’ve been through.” I left with that thought turning over in my head. Friendships like this one are like being in the same skin. You spend more than half your lives together, living and going through everything that entails. And I mean everything. And still, you meet up for lunch 37 years after you first met, it’s all changed and yet nothing has changed. It’s completely comfortable, safe and known.

It’s been a shitty few weeks for both of us, but we’ve been there for each other. Like always really.

Rusted, Rotted, Falling Apart

Rear of House with Flowers, near Morgan Springs, Alabama, 1984, William Christenberry.

I think I was about 50 when things started to go South. Fresh off two really amazing summers in Provincetown, I was desperately underemployed and couldn’t seem to find a job. At least not one in corporate America, like I had. My parents were beginning to exhibit signs of decline; I watched my Mother go through DTs after surgery to replace a hip. I was single and not happy about it. I abused alcohol and drugs and was not happy about that, either. The partying had lost its fun and had an edge. Mondays were hard.

I was lost and it was my fault, for whatever reason.

Like I said last post, a lot has happened. I found my groove professionally. The work came and I enjoyed it and it led to bigger and better things. After a BIG bender one weekend, I started dating my husband. I rode my ass off on the bike and got into primo shape. I helped my folks navigate their way into an easier living situation. On many levels, I was happy and healthy.

But it wasn’t the same as the golden years, more than a decade when it was just me – only one person to care for and limitless possibility. Mom and Dad were self-sufficient and seemingly enjoying their retirement. Money was assuured and health taken for granted. There was endless fun and new friends and adventures. Yep, not much responsibility. It was indeed fine. My friends were in the same boat and boy, did we celebrate.

I’m not a pessimist nor am I a negative person. But I’m 60 and life has changed. I realized today, as the world of those I love was crashing down around us, that this is another transitional stage. If there’s any solace or hope, I guess it’s the promise of the unknown and what comes next. It’s so fucking interesting. And normal. And natural, this thing called life.

Bring it, let’s do it.