Real Freedom

Do you ever wonder if you’re worried about the right things?

Some fears are deeply embedded, and when we finally manage to pry them loose, they look kind of silly. Like a fuzzy bald eagle chick, all feet and beak.

Other fears, things that could happen after years of bad habits, or all the things you do during the day that could kill you, get dismissed.

I’ve caught an undercurrent of anxious thoughts, things that make me break out into a prickly sweat and my face flush. Thoughts that are based in reality – it’s not like they are something that can’t happen – but if they do, there’s a solution.

Fine…I’ll get specific.

My teeth.

I brush them 3 times a day, floss, use a water pick, and mouthwash. I deploy both a manual and electric toothbrush. I spend more time on my teeth than anything else.

I come from a long line of bad teeth. Have spent more time than most – reclined and terrified – as a dentist hovers over me with a power tool.

I’m paranoid of finding myself toothless and alone.

I fixate on other people’s teeth, Chads included. Beautiful and strong. Ready to take on some uncooked sweet corn, or start gnawing through a tree branch. Just to show off.

If Chad was counting my, “babe, will you still love me when I’m toothless?” it would be in the 100s.

I realized though. Asking him (the answer’s always yes, bless him) is the wrong person.

I need to ask myself.

Can I love/be accepting of/care and get through it/not worry so much… etc. myself? Because if I’m able to trust that I’ll figure it out, that my worth is not tied in any way to my appearance, or others and their judgement of my appearance, that’s when I’m free. That’s when I can be myself through and through, and the anxious grip of wanting to be accepted and validated by others no longer matters.

Growing older, it’s not just teeth we’re talking about here. Years of direct sun exposure as I guided horses over obstacles, climbed mountains, sat outside and enjoyed life for goodness sakes, is making its mark on my face.

Can I love and accept myself as I am, without chasing my tail in an endless fruitless – and quite honestly pointless – pursuit of youth? Like, if I can choose my thoughts, shouldn’t they be directed toward enjoying and exploring my time here on earth, connecting with others, nature, and the world around me, instead of picking myself apart? Comparing myself, and feeling less than because I’m not 35 anymore, and never will be?

These fears are rooted in something deeper. Society says love and acceptance is easier if you look a certain way, and stay a certain age. Does anyone else feel ashamed to be aging?

The tendency seems to be to try and hide it. Pretend it’s not happening.

Imagine how freeing it would be to love and accept yourself throughout the process. No caveats, no conditions. To have the strength to just show up, “flaws” and all.

I value freedom. I chase it and embrace it. Funny then, to be the one I have to reckon with, in order to truly embody it.

This is something I’m going to be working on.

I’m going to start building up that muscle now, at 41.

So hopefully when I’m 80 I’ll be exuberant and joyful, and that will radiate through the wrinkles.

I’ve got a long way to go.

But we’re here for such a short time, and I for one do not want to spend a second more fixating over everything that’s wrong with me.

There’s so much more to life.