Sixty is a Myth

At times, I feel my age.

It strikes in random places.

I took my car into the dealership for routine service. It was the first service for this particular car. And as the dealership requested, I made my appointment on my app – and was proud of my ability to do so.

I arrive for the appointment and pull up to the service garage and notice that there are a lot of cars there. “This is going to take a while,” I thought.

I swear it is like I then lost control of my car. Really of myself too.

In the span of five minutes, I am approached by a team who all knew my name, somehow I exited my car and ended up in a loaner car (which I had not asked for) and left the dealership.

All of this without me saying one word. I have this impression that my mouth may have been open the entire time and my eyes a bit glazed over.

WTH just happened?

The other day I went to get my hair cut and colored. I had a conversation with my stylist about the color.

Please soften out the highlights and make it a bit warmer for fall, I said.

Ok, how about something along the lines of an ash blond?

Sounds good, just so long as it is not a drastic change. Just soften it.

Three hours later, I am in his chair with wet hair. I am panicking as the hair (MY HAIR) is black. It must just be because it is wet, I reassure myself.

As he started to dry, it became clear that my hair was now a very dark brown. It was blonde when I started.

Once again, I struggled with … what the Hell just happened? This time I had to ground myself to then assert myself.

The other day, my husband and I were getting ready to go on an endurance bike ride. We packed our gear, put the bikes on the hitch and drove to the start of the trail.

I put my helmet on and couldn’t find my biking gloves.

I took off my helmet to look for my gloves and my husband started to laugh.

My gloves were sitting on my head. They were in my helmet.

I didn’t used to do stuff like this.

I didn’t used to feel this way.

I have pretty much always been in control. Of myself, of the situation, of my life’s direction, etc. Situations where I was not in control caused me anxiety and I would avoid them.

As I am aging, I am realizing that it is okay to give up some control. I find myself leaning into this.

While there may be some expensive missteps along the way, it’s a relief to allow others to take the lead at times.

But do me a favor, please?

If you see me walking around with biking gloves on my head, please let me know.