A More Mature Look (Blog #731, Birthday #2)

Currently it’s two-thirty in the afternoon, and I’m at Starbucks blogging. A friend I haven’t seen in a while just walked over and said I was beginning to get that “older” look. That was how he started our conversation; that was his lead-in. So that felt good. To be fair, he said it looks good on me. What he meant by “it,” I’m not exactly sure. Wrinkles? (Are you saying I’m a good wrinkle wearer? Why thank you!) Recently my aunt’s dermatologist said she tries to avoid the term “age spots.” I guess people (old people) find it offensive. Instead she says “maturity spots.” Yes, I like that better. I don’t have an “older” look; I have a “mature” look.

Words matter.

Today is this blog’s second birthday. (Happy Birthday, Me and My Therapist!) Two years ago today, I wrote my first post. Since then, I’ve written every day. I really will start talking about something else soon, but wow. I just spent the last hour crunching some numbers and using a website to turn my blog into a PDF, and here are some facts. In year one, I wrote 375,441 words, an average of 1,028 words a day. In year two, I slowed down a little, writing 286,930 words, an average of 786 words a day. That’s an overall total of 662,371 words and an average of 907 words a day for the last two years. In PDF form, in 11 point font with no columns (text running all the way across the page), this translates to 1,050 pages for year one and 1,010 for year two, 2,060 pages altogether.

When the blog turned one last year, I went out with friends and deliberately did some things to celebrate. And whereas I went out with friends last night, it wasn’t for the specific purpose of celebrating the blog; it was just a coincidence. I don’t know. Maybe year two of blogging is similar to having your second child; it’s not celebrated in the same way the first one is. When something becomes routine, it’s easy to take it for granted. Still, I’m planning a few things this week in order to on-purpose pat myself on the back for how far I’ve come both in terms of this project and my personal growth. I’m trying to remind myself, No wait. This is a big deal. This is something you can be proud of.

Words matter. This is something I’ve learned during the last two years. The way you talk to yourself matters. Because that’s all I’ve been doing for the last over 600,000 words–talking to myself. That’s all I’m doing now, just sitting down and getting my thoughts out of my head and on paper. In a way, it’s like online journaling. Having a cyber man-diary, if you will. There is one difference, however. Whereas with a journal I might simply spill my thoughts out on to the page (barf!), with this project, in each entry, I make a point to talk myself into a better place. Internally I tell myself, Here is the ugly truth. Now how can we change our perspective about it? 

Lately a theme on the blog has been practice, the idea that if you just keep showing up to something–a blog, a dance class, a relationship–you’re likely to make progress. Napoleon Hill said, “Failure cannot cope with persistence.” And whereas I’ve thought a lot about the fact that my persistently blogging is making me a better writer, I haven’t considered until today that my persistently talking myself into a better place is making me a better self-talker. That is, we all have an internal narrator who provides a dialogue about what’s going on in our lives. Maybe yours says, “You’re too fat” or “You’re inadequate.” I know mine does at times. But I’m happy to report that more and more my internal narrator says, “Sweetheart, you’re beautiful–period” and “You are more than enough.” Occasionally friends have mentioned it must be nice to have thoughts like these. Well, yes, it is. But these thoughts have been practiced. Through years of self-help material, work with my therapist, and especially this blog, these thoughts have been invited in and encouraged to stay.

You don’t need to change; your thoughts do.

Sometimes I think you have to give up. What I mean is that our society, to its detriment I think, is hyper-focused on youth, beauty, and success by the world’s standards. We’re told that getting old sucks, so avoid it at all costs, and that what matters is on the outside, not the inside. And whereas most of us when pressed would say, “That’s bullshit, utter bullshit,” it doesn’t stop us from spending our hard-earned money on creams and lasers that claim to reverse the signs of aging or buying spandex to do for our skin what it can no longer do for itself. I’m not saying you should let yourself go. But I am saying that at some point the whole charade becomes ridiculous. Morrie Schwartz, the subject of the book Tuesdays with Morrie, said, “The culture we have does not make people feel good about themselves. And you have to be strong enough to say, if the culture doesn’t work, don’t buy it.” Think about it, for decades–decades!–you tell yourself you’re too this, too that. You convince yourself that YOU need to change, rather than realizing that it’s your thoughts that do.

Words matter.

Going forward with this blog, I’m not sure what’s going to happen. I’ve told a few people (and now I’m telling you) that my goal is to reach a thousand days in a row. God willing and the creek don’t rise, that should happen just before this calendar year comes to an end. And since that’s close to a year from now, it seems reasonable to me to blog every day for another 365 days. That will be three years total. Three years–that was good enough for Jesus’s ministry, so it might as well be good enough for mine. Regardless of when it happens, I know at some point I’ll stop blogging and focus on other projects. There’s a saying that once you reach the other side of the river, you set your raft aside. That is, the important thing about this blog is not that I have reached or will reach a certain number of posts or words, but rather that it’s been a vehicle for getting myself to another place internally–a better-feeling, kinder-self-talking place.

A more mature place.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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All the while, we imagine things should be different than they are, but life persists the way it is.

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