#39 Back. Again.

School starts this week. I'll update the family calendar, pack lunches, and take the kids up and down to follow extracurricular activities one more year. In the coming weeks, dinner table conversations will revolve around new teachers and schoolmates, emergency requests for art supplies and sports clothes, and complaints about waking up and bedtime. I'll do my research about food and well-being, worry about whatever is going on with my dear ones, and try to maintain the calm to navigate the school year storm. I guess things don't change much, no matter how often I tell myself I'll do things differently. After all, how much can we change when life seems like a bunch of Lego pieces glued to each other?

Aha! I got you: of course, there are changes, because if not, life would be easy, right? Let me think… things that keep me busy these days:

Teeth (hard turn, I know, bear with me)

One of my kids uses braces. Since January, my agenda includes a monthly visit to the orthodontist, and it will be like this for — at least —the next couple of years. There are things we cannot control, and apparently, teeth are one of those.

Growing up, I never had my teeth corrected. I had annual appointments at the dentist, only had a cavity once in my life, and despite having a gap between my front teeth, no one ever told me I should do anything about it. I always thought it gave me character and differentiated me from others. Over the years, I've discussed this with family, friends, and colleagues, often in the context of our conversations about the obsession with perfection. After all, what is perfect?

I was once in Germany with work colleagues, walking in a commercial street after a day full of meetings, when one of the guys pointed at a massive billboard from an underwear brand, then at me, and yelled for everyone to hear: "She's just like you!"

The photograph, in black and white, was of a young woman, from her waist up, only wearing a black bra. And yes, she had a gap between her front teeth, but I'm sure that's not what the rest of the group thought when they looked at the image... and I would have loved to be just like her... which brings me to my next topic.

The line (Or better said, the lines: ample curves, little wrinkles, and others)

Did I ever say how much it sucks to get older? Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate being wiser, having seen a bit of the world and met a lot of people. I don’t even mind the little wrinkles, the ones my grandma used to say I’d have if I kept laughing so much. My issue here is with my body, though, which in the last months (years?) has been letting me down. I know it’s on me because I could have exercised more, eaten better, and stressed less, but, in my defense, I was busy trying to conquer the corporate world and be the perfect project-lead-mum-partner-friend, which turned out to be less than healthy.

So, here is the plan: fewer take-outs, more home cooking, more sports, and less couch surfing. That’s the pledge. Now, the tricky part will be avoiding baking cookies whenever I feel the craving for something sweet or collapsing on the sofa after a full day of everything. Nobody said it was easy, right?

I’ll also commit to using moisturizing cream, as well as mascara and lip gloss during the day, to look a bit better, even if I know it will not change me. Makeup used to be part of my corporate disguise, so why shouldn’t I use it as my writer’s uniform?

I just need things, visible changes, that make me feel better… I guess that, as I approach the number 48 (1 year and two months to go), an invisible line in my life, it hits me harder the memory of something I’d love to forget. The idea of leaving this realm at that age, as my father did, has been hovering over my head for a few years already, and I’m determined to make whatever is necessary. Taking care of my body is one step, but there is another, of course… There is always another.

The mindset (because saying "mental health" is scary as Hell)

One thing I've learned over the years is that I can adapt to new activities, jobs, and occupations without issue. My "only" problem is how I face them, how I jump into the deep, without taking into consideration the amount of energy required for those things.

There was a point in my life when I was working full-time, had a one-year-old at home, and another in my belly. I decided to take a break from one university (I was taking my second degree) to pursue a postgraduate degree at another. I was much younger then, but when I told that story to someone this summer, she looked at me in horror. That's an example of how my life was. Is. Feels.

No matter how good something is, if you overdo it, you'll eventually reach a point where it's no longer as enjoyable as it was. My goal for the new school year is to do less of what doesn't make me happy, so I can focus on what matters to me. Selfish? Maybe. But I can live with it... or at least that's the plan.