Rediscovering Passion for Writing After 70

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I began blogging around 2009 although I consider myself a communicator and a good one at that. My ambition in my early life was to be an entertainer. Entertainment to me included witty writing. I spent a lot of my limited leisure time reading humorous works. I enjoyed authors like James Thurber, Emma Bombeck, and the genius that was P.G. Wodehouse.

I am an unconventional person. I never looked to fit in with anyone. I never sought a “tribe.” I didn’t accept invitations to become part of groups that wanted me. All I ever wanted was to write and share my stories. I didn’t seek fame and fortune. Although, having those would have been nice.

My current age of 70 has brought me face to face with an undeniable reality. I cannot put off any longer what has been an idle pursuit most of my life. My work life was in business. I became a mother in my late 30’s. This is not an unfathomable thing today. However, it was not a common thing in the 1990’s. My children are grown up and have their own situations. They are all doing well. In addition to my children, I have a wonderful husband. My father is still with me. He turned 97 last December.

I share all this today because if you have followed me I feel you deserve better input from me. As usual when I start anything I can’t just focus on one thing. I began a novel…suddenly I was trying to navigate my way through two, then three, then 7. I have to put an end to it and focus on one story at a time. I think if I were a child today I would be medicated, but that is a story for another day.

I see potential in my writing and success. However, as a perfectionist, I admit I become paralyzed. I procrastinate instead of sitting in the chair and writing. This happens because I want perfect sentences to flow out of me.I have to face the truth. Sometimes I blame the environment. Other times I blame the lack of a proper desk. It’s just plain nonsense.

If you have stayed with me for this entire essay, know that I appreciate your following and patience. I will touch base more often, hopefully with less rambling and more essays of success.

Move, Breathe, Live

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I was never an athletic or outdoor person. My knowledge of sports was limited to whatever my brother was playing at the time. My son participated in baseball and was an avid swimmer when he was growing up. I see the advantage of being somewhat athletic. These days, I feel my age more often than not.

I also balk at the ideas. These are the ideas of what one needs to do to lose a couple of pounds. My scant participation in social media has been inundated with ads about diets, surgeries, or exercise suggestions. I now follow people who are de-cluttering their homes. I also choose those adding color to their beige walls. I have to admit I find the ads being aimed at me charming and informative.

My feed has recently also included many insights into the horoscope that I do devote my spare time to reading. I feel vindicated when I guess things correctly about one sign or another. I suppose I really am a “jack of all trades”. I know just enough to get into or stay out of trouble. Whatever suits me in the moment. And know what? It’s all good.

This is my moment to grow into my age (69). I need to accept my weight, which is too much at the moment. My retirement is mostly welcome. I breathe in gratitude for every moment I am awake and I hope for many more tomorrows. How is your day going?

A Mid-Week Musing

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It’s been a minute since I last blogged here. Thanks for continuing to visit my site. The year has gone very quickly. My almost 96 year old father’s health has improved significantly. I am able to spend some time in my rural home. I am ensuring that everything there is as close to normal as possible.

In the last 18 months I have been at odds with the world at large. I have been anxious. I have felt untethered. I see my feelings reflected in the faces and behaviors of people all around me. I am aware that I am not alone. Gloom and doom scenarios threaten to overtake my usually positive outlook on life. Instead of waking up and feeling that something wonderful is about to happen, I focus on the president-elect’s future appointments. I keep wondering why he is announcing such outrageous (IMO) choices for his government.

The outcome of the elections has me mystified. But then much of the world’s recent election results have made this particular one not really surprising. I like to think something impactful is about to happen. The people are not returning to the past as they want us to. The world has not been perfect for a long time. We have been promised that change is coming. However, the truth is that the people in charge have fallen short for decades.

A decade is a long time. A decade is no time. Both these sentences are true. I am 69 years old. My children are adults. They are all in a committed relationship. Some are contemplating offspring. I am not sure what world they see. But I like the optimism. I am not sure what world I see for any future grandchildren in my life, should they come. I am resilient and hopeful. I work on the inner part of my being. I hope to lift spirits and shower my peers with energy. We can all do what we are meant to if we think about the world we want to see reflected.

From Duty to Dreams: Unveiling My Decision to Prioritize My Passions

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I was born forty years old! I am sure you’ve all known people like me. People who are so determined to always do more than expected from them. They do more than their share. They do the correct thing…you know what we used to call “party poopers”…but I have my reasons. If I didn’t oversee things and behave responsibly, then the chaos that ensued unsettled me enormously. So, I had better keep on keeping on.

That is until about five years ago. Sparked by what? I hardly remember. But I decided I had had enough of being responsible and a caretaker for everyone else’s tasks. I am not talking here about my nuclear family of husband and children. They are gems who “get me.” They go out of their way to help me achieve my goals. This is even though they were not initially tasked or volunteers of the many projects I found myself involved in. All the projects I got involved with in my town, on my block, etc. had little to do with my own or my family’s needs. They had more to do with my perception of the things our small community needed. They needed to have these things to really experience fulfillment. This was what I felt they wanted too.

It became clear to me that what I wanted for the town was not necessarily what the town wanted. I was a burden to them. I caused them guilt or I was the solution to crises that arose often. I was exhausted and they were tired of me. I made a decision, communicated it and felt good about it. When I communicated it, the reaction was incredulity. Nobody believed me. I would not only be missed but I would miss doing the work that was my life’s calling, they said. I was beyond being cajoled into yet another year of thankless, voluntary, tiring participation. I know myself. When positions opened up at volunteer-based organizations, I did not raise my hand for consideration. I did not accept nominations that came my way. When the pressure intensified, I stopped attending the assemblies. Nonetheless, I sent in my dues and kept abreast of any major developments.

I have accepted that despite good intentions it takes a long time for people to understand urgency. But I can do no more. Thankless work is and will always be thankless work. I am at a point in my life where I have lived more days than those I have left. The ones I have left I want to spend doing what I really want. To write. Enough procrastination!

2024!

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It’s mid January as I pen my first entry of the year on my most followed site.

I have mixed feelings about the writing I have been doing in the last few years. I go from defending my talents and my right to call myself a writer to admitting that my writing in my life has never brought me a single penny. A few weeks ago I was a bit startled by my husband’s declaration that “nobody is arguing that you are a writer”. I had not realized how often I share my doubts. My ambition is not money though. My ambition is very simple: I would like to see my name on the spine of a book in my bookcase. I can pay to have a book published my husband reminded me and I was quickly subdued! I have hundreds of Sunday newsletters that I feel are worthy of editing for minor mistakes and publishing. Why haven’t I done it?

My communications skills (verbal and written) have been present since I can remember. I do not consider myself shy or reserved. In fact quite the opposite although I will admit I am a conservative person who prefers to observe rather than be out there directing. On the other hand, if I have to be out there directing because people are just standing around idly wasting time or uncertain about the next step, I take my mother’s prerogative that it is better to do something even if one makes a mistake than to stand around doing nothing. But I digress, uncertain where that will lead. So back to my focus, writing!

This morning I received an email from a writer I had subscribed to on Medium. Since he was also writing for Substack, I guess I ended up on his email list. When I quit my “freelance” adventure on Medium, I lost the “right” to read any writer beyond a certain point, stopped by that incessant paywall I refuse to honor. I know paid content is the thing these days but it is not my thing. I have to be careful how I spend the discretionary monthly budget I allow for frivolities from my small social security check. It was a surprise to me to see an email from him so I was incentivized to read it. He was tweaking his settings he explained. There were people on his list who had unsubscribed to his newsletter and he apologized and asked us to unsubscribe again so he could get a handle on what’s what. I decided I would read his newsletter before taking that action.

It was a serendipitous event. In his post he reminds me of why I write in the first place: I have something to say that only I can say the way I want to. Somehow I took away from that that our writing has to be from the heart, not some cloned copy of writing we think is what the public will respond and pay for. He also shares the title of a book he considers his favorite of the last decade (!) and I went over to my digital library to see if they had it for me to borrow and they did. I was fully prepared to pay for it, that’s how much respect I have for this man’s recommendations, but in the end there it was, free to borrow and in stock.

I began reading the first page…astonished about what other people can do with words and wondering how many stabs it took before every word that fought for its very life made it into the sentence. Wow! Some people can really write complex long sentences that are clearly understood from the beginning to the period no matter how many words they contain. That is my goal, to be a clear communicator, a good storyteller, to capture my audience. I am so glad that I read from beginning to end.

My writing has to improve in 2024 as a simple acknowledgment that things improve with practice. My aim is to entertain and inform…and to enjoy the process. Here’s to me and here’s to you. Happy 2024!

The Holidays are Here!

…and with them lots of opportunities to celebrate, indulge, gain friends, touch base with family and generally enjoy planning what we will do in 2024.

2023 has been a very difficult year. I won’t be sad to say goodbye. On the other hand, my weight loss has been a boost and not something I take for granted. The total for the two years that I have invested in my health has shown that I can sustain a healthy routine. I am proud of me for that. I am just a couple of pounds away from my goal…but boy are they taking a long time to come off. But they will.

If you have been a loyal reader of this blog, I thank you. I realize my posts have been erratic.

Happy Holidays.

And still losing…

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It’s been a long time since I posted. Back in May I had lost almost 40 lbs. Fast forward four and some odd months and I have lost 44 lbs. and am still going for another 5 or so. I feel great, not only because of the weight loss but also because my body is beginning to feel better. My knees don’t hurt, I don’t get out of breath as much and to my shock and joy, I am now officially “overweight” rather than “obese”.

I know very well that we are in the days of fat acceptance and I applaud that. But I also know that for me personally, carrying all that weight on a small frame without much height to boot was not good for me or for my ego.

I notice I am kinder to people who struggle to continue. It has not always been easy, but when I forget to track or go off the beaten track, I tend to gain and not feel good. I am glad that I have lots of NSV’s and I am very happy for that. Best wishes to all of you struggling out there. One thing that has kept me going is asking myself “what will happen if I just don’t give up this time?” I am learning the answer. It’s all good!

Weight Loss Success

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A family emergency has changed my regular routine. I am not able to swim regularly and although I cannot say I am crushed by it, I admit I do miss the regularity. I have been “on a diet” for real for the last 18 months. My weight loss has been slow and steady until recently when I have stepped up my calorie counting and cut out drinking.

To date, I have lost almost 40 lbs. and I cannot believe it. I have adjusted my goal from just a few pounds from where I am to another 10. I think then I will stop and go into maintenance. I am thrilled with the success of the last few weeks. I feel great and I am proud of all that I have been able to accomplish despite being a little bit hungry every day when I retire to my bed. I am getting my steps in, drinking lots of water and generally taking care of my mental attitude. It is not easy to lose weight but I have plenty of tools and I have a great deal of motivation as well.

Undiagnosed Mental Health Issues

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I had no idea what kind of pictures would be shown to me when I plugged in Life Success into my browser but I love the above choice. To be perfectly honest, I have never hated anything about me! Fatter or thinner, I have remained the same person all my life. My elder sister (RIP) changed personalities depending on the number on the scale. It sounds bizarre but she admitted that to me a few years before her untimely death.

We were in a Wal-mart in Costa Rica. The perception of the typical Wal-Mart shopper in the U.S. has not translated to the Costa Rican standards. I hope I can explain what I mean. People in Costa Rica shop at Wal-mart mostly because the prices are better, the quality is not bad, the selection of products is superior and the employees are not different at Wal-Mart than they are in other similar (national) stores.

My sister and I sat to have some refreshments (shaved ice, I think). During the time we were there, my sister’s attention was on the other shoppers. I didn’t get upset. I had grown accustomed to being her driver and listener as she absorbed all the sights and sounds of the world she was just entering. It had always been that way. I don’t think she ever noticed that I nodded a lot when we were together, rarely making any comments or initiating a topic of conversation. My (hard) lessons about what I could and could not share with my sister spontaneously were constantly on my mind since the first time she betrayed a confidence as if it were of no importance. I would have enjoyed being closer to her but I just didn’t trust her with my intimate thoughts or the many aspects of my life that would have been fun to share otherwise.

At that time, my sister was dangerously obese. She shared stories of the times when she was fit enough to be a WW leader. She told me about lifting weights at the gym. She confessed that when she was thin, she felt compelled to judge others who were not “fit” and how she actually would be mean or make terrible faces of disgust. When she was heavy, she was kind and empathetic. I absorbed all this information silently, not really knowing what reply was appropriate. I had already been the recipient of her anger when I gently scolded her for humiliating a cashier who gave the wrong change. I did not look forward to any of her negative attention be thrown my way. When my sister died, we had been estranged for more than 3 years. I was not present and I only learned that she was sick a day or two before she passed.

It seems awful to admit but I was relieved when my sister passed away. Our mother had passed away 38 weeks before. It was something of a surprise when my sister died so soon after our mom but in a way it was fitting. She had always resented my birth because I took the focus off her and she never got over it. I have not been able to grieve my sister and that is disturbing to me. After all, for more than 60 years, we did share an existence on this earth that no one else has shared with me.

I recently remarked to my daughter about this fact. My daughter at 27 is more mature than I’ll ever be. She asked me to think about the positive qualities my sister possessed, assuring me that if I looked with a clean heart, I would surely find some. After some musing, I did come up with a few things: my sister was a spontaneous person and it was often surprising to me how much I enjoyed going out on the spur of the moment just to keep her from hounding me. I would not have partaken of many an opportunity to see a new show, or attend a gallery opening, or be the first on the block to try a new restaurant. I promised myself and my daughter that I would seek more examples. Perhaps time will allow me to grieve properly and to also be empathetic to the suffering she had because it should have been clear to me years ago that she was the victim of mental health issues that were never addressed.

St. Patrick’s Day

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Although I was born in Costa Rica and lived here for 8 years in early childhood, the most important years of my life were spent in Brooklyn, New York. Our neighbors were mostly Irish and Italian and while some were in the States for generations, a lot of the Irish folk were recent immigrants like we were.

I recall spending a lot of time at the home of one of my classmates who had 6 brothers and sisters. They were blessed with one of the sons studying to become a priest. Her father owned a small “pub”. They had boarders that depended on them for changing their linens and providing meals in exchange for rent. I learned a lot about their culture. Those were wonderful days that did much to contribute to my considering St. Patrick’s Day a personal holiday because on top of everything, my middle name is Patricia.

I also credit or blame the wonderful food I ate at their house on a regular basis for my gaining weight at great speed after I had managed to lose it. But who can say No to freshly baked Irish soda bread with an obscene amount of butter and strong Irish tea? Not me. To this day, Mrs. O’Malley’s bread cannot be surpassed or forgotten by me. Wherever they are today, cheers to the whole family.