🖊 WRITE 🖊

In recent years, I’ve noticed that tension tends to show more in my neck. I think it’s partly due to my breast augmentation (without that change, I might have had more tissue over those muscles, making the tension less visible), and also because I’m otherwise quite slim* — and maybe simply because I’m 36 years old. It especially shows when I raise my arm to take a selfie; the weight of the phone alone can cause those muscles to tense.

Taking a bare-faced close-up — dark circles, puffiness and all — was already a big step for me. So I’ve been exploring temporary, external ways to work with that: wearing a turtleneck when it’s cold, a light satin scarf now that it’s warmer, or cropping my neck out of pictures.

Step by step, I’m learning to accept my age — and, indirectly, my mortality. The signs of aging remind me of it. The realization that tomorrow, or even the next moment, isn’t guaranteed… feels like a very bitter pill to swallow. But this awareness is also teaching me, step by step, how to get the most out of even the tiniest present moment.

For a long time, I didn’t really stick to discipline, set goals, or follow through on plans. I kept thinking: “What if I’m not even here by then? Then all I’ve done is plan to live.” That thought dominated the phase where I was mostly doing, without much long-term thinking.

Now I’m trying to find a kind of middle ground — a sweet spot: drawing meaning and joy from the smallest moments (sometimes with a little extra sensuality), while also creating healthy habits that support a healthy, joyful, and abundant future version of myself — and others.

One of my goals is to make people feel loved. I know I can’t instantly make someone feel loved (especially not when I am and/or the recipient is in survival mode survival mode), but I can try to contribute to that feeling.

Part of it is altruism, but part of it is also the hope that maybe my presence made a positive difference — meeting my need for validation and fulfillment. That desire also stems from my father’s generosity — from how seen and loved I felt in his presence. That still inspires me. And so do the father figures who crossed my path after him, each of whom offered me something beautiful in their own way.

* I’ve actually been slim or thin for most of my life — meeting the standards my father instilled. Except during a period when he was less present, often working abroad. That’s when I came to know my mother’s standards. So I started binge-eating and discovered all kinds of ways to gain weight.

Now, even in that area, I’m learning to find a healthier middle ground. The person whose standard I still follow most — the one who almost always had the final word when I was growing up — is him. But when I eat a bit more sometimes, I know that’s okay too.

Turning the messages from my toxic parent mode into something healthier feels like one of the few ways I can quiet that critical voice.

My healthy adult mode allows me to fluctuate — as long as I stay within a healthy BMI range, feel emotionally balanced, and don’t feel nauseous, tired, or stressed too often from too much fat, sugar, salt, etc.

I’m trying to be more patient with the fluctuations of life — with the many versions of myself I can be.

All of them are me. And that’s okay.