WELLNESS

As I look back on my life, I think about why people have called me amazing. I certainly don’t feel amazing. I feel like I’m just like everyone else– living life. But another survivor friend of mine summed it up this way; she said, “Kelly, when people see someone has become a victim of a traumatic injury, they expect you to quit. We didn’t quit, we persevered. And we didn’t let our scars stop us from accomplishing our dreams, hopes and passions. We went on to get jobs, husbands, kids and whatever we wanted. We became survivors, not victims.”

I debated whether or not to share my story. Many of you will wonder why I am sharing it. My goal is that by the end of this post, you will understand why I have chosen to share my journey– one that is still in progress. I’m scared. I’m scared shitless. And I’m praying.

Self-care is one of those; “I should but, I could but, I would but,” areas often neglected by us busy women, moms, wives, sisters, friends, nanas, caregivers, business owners, and employees. I constantly see this issue addressed, not only because it’s my area of work, but it is also frequently a topic of discussion in many women’s magazines. So why is this area of concern so overlooked and underutilized? “I don’t have time” is the answer I hear most often.

I once heard on the news that everyone would eventually know someone with AIDS, because the disease was spreading so rapidly. In 1994 it would hit close to home.

I met my future husband in 1990 and three years later, I became pregnant with our first child. I developed high blood pressure and delivered Katie by C-Section on November 24, 1993. She was just 3 lbs 14 oz. As any unbiased mother would claim, Katie was adorable! She giggled and made happy noises but she often missed developmental milestones. She couldn’t hold her head up and by age six months, she was unable to roll over; I thought it was due to her being a preemie.

Every day, I have two kids’ lunches to prepare: A main meal, 3 snacks, water and juice (I only give juice to my older one). I have noticed a steady decline lately in the quality of snacks in their lunches (obviously my fault, despite being a very healthy household), and it’s driving me bananas! My 3 year old loves foods like salmon, quiche and all things healthy. He’s quite a pleasure to feed. My big son is a little “trickier,” shall we say. Mealtime has been a huge problem for us, actually. If I’m serving salmon to the family, and my 7 year old refuses to eat it, and therefore I’m making him a grilled cheese, all of a sudden, my 3 year old hates salmon. And then I’m screwed! All healthy goes out the window. And lord knows, I ain’t no Martha Stewart.

I watched the beautiful Porta De Rossi on The Oprah Show yesterday. The hour flew by. What an engaging and candid interview. Portia DeRossi, wife of Ellen De Generes, and actress from Ally McBeal and Arrested Development talked openly about her secrets of the past. She was a closeted lesbian, afraid of being “Outed,” and had starved herself down to 82 pounds, and was suffering with bulimia simultaneously.

Most of the time I like being fifty-something, but this aging stuff is complex. Inside I still feel like I’m in my thirties, but then I realize that’s the age of my children. One day recently I caught a glimpse of my hands and became aware of the fact that they look like my mother’s. I’m trying to make peace with the lines around my eyes and brackets around my mouth, justifying them with the fact that I laugh a lot, but saggy skin on my hands – yikes – I’m old.

Although it’s easier said than done, there is no point in having angst about aging. Two undeniable truths are: everyone ages and aging sucks.