Bruised but not beaten…


I stood in the mirror on my 46th birthday this week and had to chuckle. My left eyelid had a band across it that looked like a bad shade of purple eye shadow. I had walked right into a concrete pole last weekend, during renovations, and had the nasty bruise to prove it.

The goose egg on my forehead had slowly seeped blood to my eyebrow and then eyelid. It was fortunate, though, that I haven’t had time for a haircut lately, so my overgrown bang hung over it, most of the time. A week later, I am grateful that the swelling has mostly gone down and there is only a small dent left in my forehead.

You could tell that some people were looking at me funny this week. Almost like I started to put on eye shadow, realized what a horrific colour it was, stopped the application, but then forgot all about it. When I recognized the confused look on the faces of people who I was talking with, I jokingly explained the bruise. Unfortunately, only dance makeup would cover it and I didn’t have the patience to do it.

The problem is that for all of the other people who didn’t ask or I had forgotten to mention to them, they must have thought that I was losing it. The purple eye was thankfully overshadowed though, by the chocolate I had on the corner of my mouth from the copious amounts of sweets that I received on my special day. At least I didn’t have lipstick on my teeth this week, because I didn’t have time to put any on.

As I pondered the image I faced in the mirror, I then noticed the scars on my stomach and abdomen from having my gallbladder removed before Christmas, the skin tags that seem to appear right where they are likely to cause the most amount of friction against my straps and the endless freckles that have been the result of too much exposure to the sun, when I used to care about how tanned I looked.

The mirror then confirmed the reason that I haven’t noticed the need for a root touch up on my hair lately. It turns out that all of my brown hair is growing in pure grey; blending nicely with my blonde highlights.

It was all okay though, because my hair was so curly and unkempt that it appeared that I had put my finger into a live electrical socket, while standing in a puddle of water, and you couldn’t notice the roots at all.

When I looked down at my hands, I had a black spot under my thumb nail from closing the door on a huge metal safe, but not quite removing my finger in time. My finger nails were dirty with dark brown wood stain and it turns out that I must have rubbed against some fresh beige paint on the outside of my right arm, because there was still some clinging to my skin, in a glob.

It will be easy though, to match the paint colour when I go to the hardware store for more. See, ‘this is the colour right here’ I will say, as I point to my arm.

The bags under my eyes were letting me know that I have been extremely overtired these past few weeks and the pills on the counter were a reminder of how my thyroid stopped functioning properly almost 15 years ago, how sore my muscles were and how high blood pressure runs in our family. All of that on top of female issues that I would not be interested in sharing in detail.

So, this past week, I walked around like a tired, travelling gypsy with half done makeup, without a hair brush and feeling like I had not been to sleep in days. Even if there were more hours in a day, as I had wished many times, I wouldn’t have had the energy to do anything with them.

I was asleep by 9pm on any of the days that I was home by then, up at 5:30am most of the days and closed my eyes, when I could, on the chaise lounge chair near my office, for mini cat naps.

I am assured though, by all of those who love me that I will be caught up soon and it will all work out. Apparently my bruises, scars and marks from the journey before me may still be visible and it will take some time to recuperate from the recent renovations and transitions; however, I will live. It is all hard work for a great purpose and it will all eventually get done.
I may be bruised, worn down, slightly damaged, and not as young as I used to be, but I am not beaten. I am just polished and prepared for the journey ahead. Like fine wine, we only get better with age.

Nothing that a little sleep, an afternoon off, a motorcycle ride, some fresh air and some nature photos won’t cure. On that note, I am off to sleep, work, nap and then ride….

‘There is a fountain of youth: it is your mind, your talents, the creativity you bring to your life and the lives of people you love. When you learn to tap this source, you will truly have defeated age.’ ~ Sophia Loren