So my husband and I spent the day doing two separate projects with each project having the same goal – getting organized.  My husband made shelves out of 2 x 4’s to organize and load everything from the middle of the garage floor onto  (yes – from the middle of the garage floor) and I spent the day cleaning the house, organizing the pantry and the kitchen cabinets, doing laundry and any other odds and ends that needed to be done seeing we had not been home for a full weekend for most of the summer.

We recently had our garage re-drywalled and painted (it was 40 years old and had never been painted) and before we could have that done, we removed everything from the garage onto a flatbed.  Once the painting and drywalling were complete, we had to return the flatbed to its rightful owner, so we took everything off the flatbed and placed it in the center of the garage.  That is not a pretty sight – your entire collection of garage items loaded in a huge pile.  In order to actually use the garage for our cars, the pile in the middle had to go – hence the shelf building day. 

As I went about my day with utter determination, with my husband in the same mode ( we are heading out-of-town next weekend and have company the weekend after) I found myself thinking – isn’t it amazing all the possessions we accumulate during our  lifetime?  It seems as if most of my married life I have been buying little trinkets, redecorating bedrooms, buying kitchen gadgets, accumulating numerous items including too much luggage, shop vacs, vacuum cleaners, hand-held vacuum cleaners, storage containers, quarts of paint, oil, paintbrushes, the one time usage items – candle wax remover (how often do I use that?), and the never-ending supply of cleaners,  chemicals, cleansers, silver polish, batteries, light bulbs, and of course, the old towels, washcloths, the endless pairs of mittens, gloves, hats, coats and last but not least clothes and shoes.

I don’t need anything more –  not one more single thing.  I sometimes have this fantasy that I walk around my house with a huge plastic bag that I stuff everything into and haul it away.  Both of my parents passed away over the past year and a half, and although my father did a beautiful job of organizing his material life in such a way that it was a breeze to disassemble his estate, I found myself thinking – is this what life comes to?  We will what is left to those we leave behind, and they in turn divide those belongings amongst themselves or, more often than not, taking truck loads of items to be taken to the dump or given to Goodwill. 

What has this to do with being fifty?  I think it’s perspective.  You reach a point in your life where accumulating items just doesn’t matter.  You realize that you cannot take it with you and that at the end of the day, these possessions just end up possessing you.  How much time do we spend cleaning, sorting, organizing, throwing away, shopping for and stressing about all of our stuff?  Trust me, I did not want to spend my day organizing and cleaning and I’m pretty sure my husband felt the same way. 

As my husband lay snoring in bed at 8:30 because his back was killing him, and I’m still typing this at 10 PM with one more load of laundry to do, I find myself thinking – this has got to stop.  I don’t need this anymore.  From now one, being 50 means I can disassemble my material life in such a way that I am freed up to have a life where I choose what I want to do.  Ah – 50 is looking good right about now!

My very first post.  Wow.  I am not prepared like I wanted to be but what the hell – I am the type of person who jumps in and then says “now what”?

OK – so I am starting this blog for many reasons.  For starters, I keep having conversations with myself in my head about turning 50 and I find myself thinking – does anyone else feel this way?
It all started when I was 48 and watching “Weeds”, one of my favorite shows.  My husband was commenting on Mary Louise Parker’s outfits and saying how sexy she always looked and I thought – how many more years can she wear those clothes? Could I wear something like that?  Oh wait – not me because I was 48 and oh my gosh – I will never be able to because in two years I will be FIFTY!   All those sexy and fun outfits will be out of my life forever.  I will be one of those women that men talk about that have old necks, saggy boobs and where they occasionally comment  “She is not aging well”.

This was a moment of sheer terror for me – of the absolute realization that time is marching forward and I was going right along with it.  It was one of the most poignant moments of self-awareness that  I have ever had in my  life – it hit me like a ton of bricks.   I was becoming what my parents were to me – the keeper of the household  that children visit and leave, the point in life that I never really thought I would get to or want to reach.

SInce that moment, I try to stay positive about aging, but media and most things I encounter tell me otherwise.  I’m contemplating a career change and I encounter numerous comments such as  “at your age?” and ” do it quick before you get any older”.   These are comments and thoughts placed in front of me that I have never had to worry about before.  Is this true?  Is there really a campaign out there against early fifty somethings?  Everywhere I look are constant  media images of women who have their face carved up to maintain a youthfulness so they will appear more attractive as if that is the only value they have.  What is wrong with an aging face?  Do I have to just call it quits and go live in a cabin in the wilderness?

Yes, I’m ashamed to admit it but I’m embarrassed about my age sometimes.  When I’m in a fun bar with my daughters, I get the look that says – you can’t dance like that, you can’t act like that.  When I meet business associates in person, whom I have been dealing with exclusively on the phone and they turn out to be early thirty somethings, I think  – are they looking at me like – wow, she’s older than I thought?    When I think about applying for a job I wonder if at my first interview I will be considered “old”.

I feel compelled to do this blog for everyone entering the “fifty” decade who are searching for a new meaning in life and hopefully, selfishly, to administer therapy to myself in the process as a little added bonus.  I hope to get to a level of acceptance with my age and to also embrace it.

More to come…..