It is said that having close social groups are important factors in longevity and health.
What if being alone doesn’t bother you? Worse, what if you like it?
If I had to choose to be alone or being with a person that talks all the time I would choose be alone. I would have to, to avoid the stress that it would cause me. I am lacking in social skills and tolerance.
My social skills are poor and they are getting worse as I find I am intolerant of conversations that mean nothing or are an annoyance to me.What does that say about me?
When do you have opportunity to just think if there is conversations going on? You have to think how to respond hardly listening to what is being said while you plan what you will say, so no one is really listening, just waiting for a break in conversation so you can have a turn to speak. with the people next to you or the one on the inside your head endlessly telling what to think.
We don’t give ourselves time to just think. Life gets too busy on the outside to be able to take the time needed to really think and understand ourselves and our world.
I’ve been who I’ve needed to be for other people, now I’m just here for me. Call me selfish.
There I’ve said it.
I may be rude and I have no small talk. Please excuse me,
I am a boring person
That used to bother me make me uncomfortable in social groups but now at 76 years of age I don’t try too hard to fit in., I am a boring person.
But if by chance you ask me who I am, you might be surprised to find that I too have a story to tell, but I’ll probably just write it here.
Comforting myself with a few spoonfuls of Nutella, chocolate always makes me feel better.
It was another windy day but not cold, without the sun it felt dreary. Today I planned to either varnish my tiles or cover my kitchen with the paper that finally arrived to do the job. I chose to do the kitchen.
It was tough to do the job alone, a helper would be good but two people in here makes for a tight space. The paper tore when I tried to reposition it for the 4th time, but I was able to piece it together
I made the mistake of covering a table when I should have been covering the kitchen counter. It was the counter that I bought to paper for (it came from China I believe, as many things do on Amazon do)
30 years in Panama and I never got a single serenade from my serenating husband. Maybe if I had things could have been different.
I didn’t think I could ask for one, it’s supposed to be a surprise isn’t it? All of a sudden you hear music under your window dedicated to you and you think, oh my god those guys are so drunk. Cuz that’s when they seranade.
It didn’t happen so frequently once we moved to the city but if I saw him leaving with guitar in hand it was suspicious, someone was getting a serenade, but not me.
Why not? I liked music and sentiment as much as anyone, why was I not favored?
Back in EL Real I heard of a few serenades for special occasions, for mother’s day it was popular to offer a serenade, and my husband always complied, just not for me. Couldn’t he find anyone to sing with him for me? Just one thing missing of many during those years as I think back to how my life has changed so dramatically, where would we be now if I’d stayed. I’m kidding here, he was a good man and still is a good man. And now he has a wife that appreciates him, I hope he serenades her We just didn’t know how to be good together. We were not a “we” just a her and a he.
I’ve been here irregularly not always finding the mood to write but suddenly I have people reading my stuff (tho it may be due to one recent topic of interest ) and it has surprised me and made me think maybe I have something to say!
The difference between having readers and not having readers is having something of value to say. My life may be interesting to people because of the choices I’ve made and how and why I’ve made them. So I thank my new readers. I don’t promise what I write will charm anyone but I’ll write in my voice of an old woman working thru her thoughts and concerns, some days down and some days up but always steady forward in my journey on this road less traveled.
Do remember that as I write here I do so as a kind of self- therapy, trying to beat back the troubling mental decline of age I sense is just around the corner..
This project of writing here, figuring out how to do all this is not easy for me. but I know its good for me, it stresses my brain, which is a good thing, I guess. That’s what they tell us old folk. Use it or lose it they say.
There are several things I’d like to learn how to do properly here on wordpress, How to move stuff around without losing my stuff. I guess I could take a class.
Bu I’d rather learn watercolor. Which I’m going to do tomorrow, I’ve never tried to paint watercolor, it’s another challenge.
I’d also like to know why my hands are turning white but whatever, I guess they are just tired of making melanine, or whatever. I’m looking very spotty, the joys of aging, and I don’t care que sera sera.
I dedicated a series of images of a floral paintings some years ago that I thought represented the cycle of interstitial cystitis. Kind of silly perhaps but if you look at the first flower it looks like then the mood begins to worry and then there’s pain and worst pain then slowly improves but one is always watchful until the cycle starts again. These are all images of the same painting digitally modified to produce the changes that to me represent pain.
It’s a Bear, it sEeps your life awayConstant pAin it changes your liFeyour mOod your futureInviSible to the outside but you look Fine nEed toUrinateconstantlycan’t slEEep can’t have seXwithout feArofpain Afraid to eEatafraid afraid afraid
All this and more is the face of interstitial cystitis.
I have had interstitial cystitis for more than 20 years. I am one of the lucky ones, most are not so fortunate, my disease has not progressed and I’m stable on the medication I take daily, would I be if I didn’t take the medication? I don’t think so, I have tried to decrease my meds but when I do i have a flare so from 10 mg of amitriptyline I have gradually had to increase to 100 mg over the years. It hasn’t been an easy burden to live with, the first 5-8 years were the worst with frequent flares now much less if I’m cautious about what I eat, avoid stress (which is difficult to manage in our busy lives, but for many they don’t have busy lives because this has changed lives)
I am writing this now because a reader wrote that he has IC and it has progressed. He thought that a note from someone whose condition has not gotten worse but has improved with less frequent flares would be encouraging to other IC’ers, I hope this helps and if anyone would like to talk to me about it please contact me here and I’ll be happy to share what I know about IC.
I can go for weeks without the urge to write here until I have all these simple thoughts accumulated and it’s time to purge.
I know that sounds rude.
They are not big thoughts but…..
I want to be more cognizant of the fact that now I can do anything,
do whatever or not do anything at all
with no limits but those I put on myself,
to not be afraid of doing something stupid.
I want these years I have left to grow towards greater understanding of myself and life around me and not be satisfied with just passing the time pleasantly.
I want more.
Oh, I’ll tell you about my fingers getting crooked, ( I just noticed my little pinky is bent) the hassles I encounter and details of living my life, but every now and then I hope for a spark of something worth sharing.
Surely a 76 year old woman must have something to share of value.
(birthday coming up, no longer just only a 75 year old)
I do go on and on about my age don’t I, somehow my age makes me relevant here.
But there is one part of myself that questions if this isn’t a selfishness on my part. I’m not contributing anything but my thoughts to anyone and my thoughts aren’t worth much, even to me. The freedom to do or not to do anything at all may just make me a lazy person. What can I do to make better thoughts to share? My daily activities are mundane, not much to share about so I have to think my thoughts and try to put them in words that mean something or express how this old woman perceives the world around her.
I once expressed to my husband (long ago )that I would like to spend some time sitting under a tree on a mountain all alone to think my thoughts. He found it hurtful to not be included under that tree. Maybe that is what I have found here, though not alone, here I can be alone, and I can sit under a tree on a mountain if I so chose.
This is a perfect situation for me until it is not and then I’ll leave.
So far I have no desire to leave, is that because I have no place to go?
I’ve decided writing daily is a way to help myself find and remember my words, think my thoughts and spell my words. It’s therapy for me and may be interesting to you to understand me, a 75-year-old solo woman on a mission to understand herself, choices I’ve made and the changes that happen related to growing old.
When I started thinking about this living option I was asked what I would do if I got sick. I only have one health problem and whether it happens while on the road or at ‘home’ the treatment is the same, rest, diet and meds. Same here or there.
Going on the road has given me ample topics to write about of interest to a few who stop by here to read my words, I thank you but I am warning that the goal for me is to write, even when I’m boring I will keep writing. I hope you will keep reading because it’s encouraging for me to see the stats and responses of my readers