I’m Back — Apparently Aging Has Other Plans

I’m back!

I took a little hiatus without a particularly good excuse. Sometimes I forgot I was supposed to get back to this. Sometimes I remembered I was supposed to get back to this and simply… didn’t. Sometimes mental health gets in the way. Sometimes it’s sheer laziness. And sometimes it’s menopause brain, which is apparently my brain’s new operating system.

I will forget something approximately seven seconds after thinking about it. I will know exactly what I want to do but suddenly have absolutely no idea what the thing is called. Then I will spend the next twenty minutes trying to remember the word instead of actually doing the thing.

So there’s that.

Anyway, let’s talk about aging.

Aging is NOT for the weak, folks. Let’s be very clear about that.

Your body starts making noises you didn't authorize. Things hurt for reasons you cannot identify. Everything takes longer to heal. What would once have been a minor cut suddenly becomes a full medical investigation.

Should I have gotten stitches?

Is this infected?

Why is it still bleeding?

Is this just what happens now?

Apparently, yes. Welcome to the thrilling world of turning 50, where your body treats a paper cut like it has been personally betrayed.

Healing is slower. Pain seems significantly more committed than it used to be. Aches that would have disappeared in a day now apparently require a long-term lease.

And then there is the clumsiness.

I have become significantly more talented at injuring myself while doing absolutely nothing impressive. A trip, a misstep, bumping into furniture—suddenly I have a new pain that I will apparently be carrying with me until death or the invention of a better skeleton.

And if you actually fall?

Oh, excellent.

Now your back has joined the conversation.

That little injury doesn't necessarily go away anymore. It just becomes another ache you eventually stop mentioning because you have acquired so many other aches that keeping track of them would require a spreadsheet.

And don't even get me started on the emotional side of aging.

Because apparently physical pain wasn't enough.

Everything can trigger a memory you weren't trying to remember. Emotional pain can drag up things you thought you'd packed away permanently. You can be having a perfectly ordinary day, and suddenly your brain decides, Hey! Remember that embarrassing thing you did in 1997?

No, Brain.

I do not.

I did not ask.

Please return that memory to whatever cursed filing cabinet you found it in.

Then there are the physical changes.

For years, I had long, thick, beautiful hair.

Now?

My hair is thinning and falling out by the handful.

My scalp and skin feel like they have collectively decided moisture is no longer part of the program. And, of course, wrinkles.

Because apparently my face now needs to document every laugh, every stressful moment, every sleepless night, and every questionable life decision I've ever made.

My fingernails have also developed their own personalities. They grow weirdly and have divots and grooves throughout them.

And then there is weight gain.

I genuinely do not understand why the human body decides that metabolism is an optional feature once you hit a certain age.

Who approved this?

Why does my body suddenly look at a cookie and say, Excellent. We’ll store that for winter.

What winter?

I live in Canada.

There is ALWAYS a winter.

I don't need the assistance.

The truth is, once you get past a certain age, you start to understand why people historically didn't live particularly long lives.

The human body has a LOT going on.

Aches. Pains. Arthritis. Hearing loss. Lack of energy. Slower healing. Random injuries. Hormonal chaos. Sleep problems. Hair loss. Vision changes.

And apparently the warranty expired somewhere around 40.

So yes, this probably sounds like one giant complaint.

Frankly?

It is.

But it also comes with knowledge.

Because aging has made me realize that knowing what you should do and actually doing it are two very different things.

A doctor will tell you to eat better.

Exercise.

Change your habits.

Sleep more.

Manage your stress.

Take care of yourself.

And honestly, all of that is great advice.

But let's talk about how fucking difficult that actually is.

When you're 50, you have spent decades developing habits. Some good. Some bad. Some that are so deeply ingrained that they might as well have their own Social Security number.

Changing those habits because your body has suddenly decided it would like some different treatment is not easy.

But I am working on it.

Slowly. Imperfectly. But I am working on it.

I have changed my dietary habits quite a bit. I try to consume a minimum of 20 plant-based foods every day.

I start my morning with a smoothie—after coffee, because I am still a civilized person—and that smoothie can contain anywhere from 10–18 different plant-based ingredients.

Fruits. Vegetables. Grains. Seeds. Nuts.

Basically, I throw a small garden into a blender and drink it.

I've also added several vitamins and supplements into my daily routine. I take a multivitamin every morning, along with biotin, collagen, and vitamin D3.

Those are primarily to support hair, skin, nails, and general health.

I also take black cohosh at night to help with mood swings and other menopausal symptoms.

For me personally, I would rather start with vitamins, nutrition, lifestyle changes, and other less-invasive options before jumping into hormone replacement or other medications.

That is a personal choice, and I know everyone's situation is different. I'm not a doctor and I'm certainly not pretending to be one on the internet.

I'm just figuring out what works for me.

I've also started walking nearly every day.

Nearly.

Sometimes I forget.

Sometimes I don't want to.

Sometimes my motivation has apparently packed a bag and moved to another country.

But I do it when I can.

I also stretch and do some very light exercise every morning before I leave my room. Nothing dramatic. Maybe five minutes.

I can't overdo it. I'm older, I have asthma, and apparently my body would prefer that I approach exercise with the caution of someone handling unstable explosives.

So I do what I can.

And slowly, it is working.

I've also changed my nighttime routine to try to improve my sleep.

Sleep hygiene.

Magnesium bisglycinate.

A consistent routine.

And, when necessary, melatonin.

It doesn't always work.

Sometimes none of it works.

And those nights are brutal.

Because I am no longer 20.

I cannot pull an all-nighter and wake up the next morning functioning like a perfectly normal human being.

At 50, if I don't sleep properly, my body doesn't just complain the next day.

It files a formal grievance.

Sometimes it takes two or three days for my body to remember that we are no longer tired.

So here I am.

Trying to figure out this aging thing.

Trying to take better care of myself.

Trying to change habits that have been decades in the making.

Trying to accept that my body is changing whether I like it or not.

And trying very hard not to lose my sense of humor about the whole damn thing.

Because honestly, what else are we supposed to do?

Cry?

Well…

We can do that too.

Apparently crying is also a symptom of menopause.

Welcome back to Bold Steps.

I'm 50.

I'm tired.

My hair is falling out.

My metabolism has abandoned me.

My joints have opinions.

My brain has misplaced several important words.

And I'm still here.

So I guess we're doing this.

One slow, achy, occasionally hilarious step at a time.