It's not that I LOOK old. Heck, I look somewhere in my early 30s. I don't have wrinkles. I don't have grey hair (thanks to Loreal). My boobs haven't reached my belly button and no age spots have started to crop up. But it has NOTHING to do with "looks".
I guess what it is, is that I'm feeling my mortality. I'm at a point in my life where I am painfully aware that there are things I will never do. This sorta bums me out. I will never have children, which by default means I won't have grandchildren. I won't climb mountains. I won't run a marathon. I won't sing for Disney. I won't have a 401k to fall back on later. I won't run away and join the high-wire act in the circus.
These are things that plague me.They're not regrets...just painful realizations.
My family and friends (except for my sister Heidi, my friend Vicki and my aunt Sherry) are giving me pep-talks and either telling me "how grateful I should be" or to just "put on my big girl panties and deal with it". Heidi, Vicki and Sherry get it. I don't know how to explain this pervading sense of melancholy that has burrowed its way under my skin...but I know those 3 understand. Don't get me wrong...I AM grateful. I DO REALIZE how lucky and blessed I am. That is not the issue. The issue is that I FEEL sort of, well...miserable. I know this will pass. But, for now, I'm bummin'.
I'm just sort of a sad puppy.
Oops, gotta run, phone is ringing. Great, it's AARP. *sigh*