Internal combustion

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There are a lot of things going on right now in the world and I suppose this little title could apply to the the various technologies that use fuel and internal combustion to run them. Damn, gas is getting expensive! This post is about a totally different subject, but what reason in hell were we buying Russian oil for when we could completely rely on our own source of oil but refuse to tap into it?

Anyway…

The internal combustion I am referring to is actually inside of me.

Someone said the other day said that they thought something was going on inside of me that maybe I hadn’t recognized or identified yet. They had noticed that my usual level of grumpiness had increased to a level I might not be aware of but that others were noticing. It was mentioned that perhaps it was my newfound age of 50, or maybe it was something at work, or maybe it was…nothing else was pointed out.

I said that I didn’t think that I was all that grumpy, at least not that I was aware of. It was news to me if people thought I was grumpier than normal.

As I thought about it a bit more through the day, I thought that maybe there was something going on. I don’t know if I have really put a finger on it yet. As I am thinking of where I am in life at the moment and current circumstances, I can see (or feel) that I am unsettled. I am finding myself frustrated with everything that has to do with my current situation. Daily life has become a chore and finding joy in places that one would think it could be found just isn’t providing it. Instead, those places are kinda killing the joy.

As such, there may be a little internal combustion going on as I am trying to keep a lid on the unhappiness, the joylessness, the irritability, the frustration, the distaste for my current state. It’s not that I want to tear everything down, torch it to the ground, or start completely over. It’s just when I look around me, I don’t know how I got here and I didn’t envision myself here, and I don’t want to really stay here. Does that make sense?

Call it a mid-life crisis? Nah, I don’t think so. Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. I don’t think it is.

The internal combustion inside of me is keeping me moving (hopefully in a positive direction) but the fire in me sometimes gets rather dim when I am tired of being the rather responsible one. It gets tiring being the one who carries everything on his shoulders and keeps the plates spinning and keeps the wagon train headed in the correct direction. The one who hold it all together, all the time, every time.

Maybe I am just burned out on life right now.

My engine isn’t running at it’s prime, that’s for sure.

Perhaps I am just one cycle from failure, explosion, or implosion.

Feeling it

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Snap, crackle, and pop.

Grunt, groan, sigh.

OH, that hurts!

Wait, why does that hurt? I didn’t do anything! It didn’t hurt earlier in the day when I was shoveling gravel for 30 minutes and climbing in and out of a dump trailer at a 30 degree angle. Why does it hurt now?

All I did was slide into bed…

This getting old thing is not something to shake a stick at. I guess neither is the outta shape thing either. Combined, they make for the perfect pairing of mysterious hurts, aches, and ailments.

Last night I suddenly felt a twinge of pain in the left hip area when I slide into bed. Weird. I didn’t have that before. Needless to say, it woke me up a few times as I shifted positions.

It hasn’t bothered me much today but it was just one of those reminder pains that let’s me know I am getting old.

What reminds you that you are getting old?

In the mirror

brass framed wall mirror

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Every stand in front of the mirror and wonder, “What happened?”

I mean, this is starting to become a regular occurrence for me. So, I wonder if others have a similar experience any time they are in front of a mirror.

I am not a good judge of myself, at least when it comes to appearance. I’ll say that right off the top. I am hard on myself. But, to be honest, I haven’t ever though that I fall in the “attractive” category. “OK” at best, but probably mostly “Fair” would be safe.

Anyway, the bathroom is becoming my enemy. Well, any place that has a mirror, but mostly the bathroom. Or, you could probably include any picture of me. Those suck too, but that’s a whole other story.

So, morning and night starts and ends in the bathroom for me. I have to “put in my eyes,” as I like to say it, in the morning and “take out my eyes” at night. Blind as a bat…but that too is a post for another day.

I watch my body change. I watch my face change. I watch what “used to be” become my “new normal” and I just wonder, “What the hell happened?” My face could scare small children (and likely does…though it doesn’t crack the mirror so maybe it isn’t that bad…) and my body could be used as a boat anchor, only I probably would still float too well. Aches appear from nowhere. Creaks and pops from the joints that used to be flexible and nimble. Bumps, lines, and spots appear on my face as though I am trying to win a topographical map contest. I stare at it and it stares back. Only the gaze that comes back is different than the one previously.

Age. Is. Unkind. It can’t be denied and it can’t be avoided. I guess there is some control over how it happens and how gracefully you can handle it, but in the end the end still comes.

Some days though, I can’t help but dislike what I see.

 

Getting real old

man hands waiting senior

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This last weekend was for the ages.

I went to two birthday parties for old people. My grandmother turned 90 and my father-in-law turned 79.

This isn’t really a complaint about relatives getting old. I love them. But what it is a complaint about is that people are getting old, and that just means the inevitable is getting closer…and I don’t like it.

Not only is it getting closer for them (it’s hard to admit, because really it could be any time), but it is getting closer for me too. That’s the frightening thing.

Not that I am scare of death. I know where my Peace is.

But, I am scared because there seems like there just isn’t enough time and there are places I want to go and things I want to do and suddenly I feel selfish because I feel like I have to let those things go. I am scared because there are things that will happen in the future that I might not get to see, experience, enjoy with my daughter (and grand kids, when she has them in the future). Time just keeps on ticking and often I think I am no closer to some of my goals now, than I was 20 years ago, or even 10 years ago.

I look at the people I love in my life and they’re getting old and time with them is slipping by. There aren’t as many at family gatherings as there used to be. Oh, to have that time back, right? Just make the best of it now. Cherish it.

Getting old is getting really old. My body feels it. My mind knows it. My eyes see it.

How do I move forward and make it not feel this way?


 

Do you worry about getting old? Do you wonder what will happen in the next 10-20 years for you? What do you take solace in?

A bladder the size of a walnut

white ceramic male toilet

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OK, so this getting old thing is getting old.

Is it a requirement that as you get older bladder gets smaller? I swear it must be.

I used to be like a damn camel when it came to holding my…water. Now I might go to the bathroom 3 times a night (sometimes not at all) and during the day, well let’s just say I might be wearing a path in the carpet at work from my cubi-cell to the bathroom. There are times where I find myself turning into the 8 year old I used to be and doing the “bathroom dance” because I am in the middle of something and don’t want to stop yet.

Yes, I drink a lot of coffee. Why wouldn’t I? Yes, I know it is a diuretic and it will cause me to pee a lot. But seriously, one cup could cause me to take four trips to the bathroom! LOL I think the problem here is my bladder has gotten smaller. That has to be it.