LexiMe - My journey of faith

One of the hardest things to make sense of is how something that felt so full, so aligned, can still come to an end.

It could be something small—a misunderstanding that never got cleared up, a shift in timing, something left unsaid that kept growing in the quiet.

Or maybe it was something heavier—a hard conversation, a moment that broke trust, a change in what you both needed.

Whatever it was, it happened. And even if no one meant for it to fall apart, it did.

It started out soft, easy, safe. The kind of connection that feels written, meant to be. You talked about everything and nothing. You shared little routines, small jokes, familiar stories. You felt like yourself, and that felt rare. It wasn’t perfect, but it was real. You thought it had a future. You thought you were building something.

And then something shifted. Maybe the calls got shorter. The replies came slower. Maybe something big happened that neither of you knew how to handle. Or maybe it was just the slow fade of two people trying, but still slipping apart.

One day you were planning things, and the next you are rereading old messages. You still find yourself thinking about them, wanting to let them know when something reminds you of them. You check your phone and have to stop yourself from texting them, you remember you don’t do that anymore. You lie awake wondering if they ever think of you.

You try to act like it’s fine, and most days, it is. But there’s still that ache. That tug. That thought of what if, what could’ve been if something had gone differently.

So you sit with the ache. You wonder why they ever showed up if they were just going to leave. Why the universe would let you taste something so soft, so warm, so full of life—only to take it away. It feels cruel. Like someone dangled peace in front of you and then pulled it back without warning. And now you’re supposed to carry on like it was just a small thing. Like it didn’t crack something open in you.

You replay memories over and over like maybe if you study it hard enough, it’ll make sense. But it doesn’t.

And maybe it wasn’t meant to last. Maybe it was only meant to show you how much you’ve grown, how deeply you can feel, how willing you still are to open your heart.

Still, it mattered. Even if it ended because of something small. Even if it ended because of something big. It mattered.

You carry it quietly, with tenderness. Because it gave you something. Even if only for a moment, it showed you what connection can feel like. And that counts. That changes you.

Trust the overthinker who says they love you. They have considered every reason not to, and still they do.

I do not want you to love me because I am good for you because I say and do all the right things, but because I am everything you have been looking for.

I want to be the one you did not see coming. The one who gets under your skin. Who makes you unsteady. Who makes you question everything you have ever believed about love.

I want to be the one who makes you feel reckless and out of control, the one you are infuriatingly and inexplicably drawn to.

I do not want to be the one who tucks you into bed. I want to be the reason why you cannot sleep at night.

Physical intimacy isn’t just about sex—it’s about connection. Touch. Safety. Being wanted. And when that fades in a relationship, it hurts more than most people admit.

Not because you crave the act itself, but because you miss the closeness. The feeling of being desired. The electricity of being seen and touched with intention.

Life gets busy. Stress piles on. Exhaustion takes over. And suddenly, you’re living with someone who used to feel like your lover—but now feels more like your roommate.

But you don’t get the spark back by pressuring or blaming. You rebuild it through emotional intimacy. By showing up again. Flirting again. Having the hard conversations. Creating space for desire to return, not demanding it.

Sometimes the sex fades because the emotional connection has cracked. Other times, it fades because no one’s been tending to it. But the good news? It’s not gone forever.

Start slow. Start soft. Start with presence, not performance. Ask: “What makes you feel close to me?”

Intimacy isn’t just about heat—it’s about heart. When that’s nurtured, the spark doesn’t just come back. It ignites everything.

Connection is a garden. It needs tending. Every day you ignore it, the weeds grow. Every day you nurture it, something beautiful can bloom.

I will never forget the day I started talking to you

Not knowing that I would fall in love with you

You gave me something that no one had before

You gave me peace

Like a river that had been rushing, pulled by the current for too long.

You made my waters still

I found rest within myself from you.

You gave me a reason to get up in the mornings

Happily awaiting word from you

To enjoy every aspect of life

To enjoy the meaning of purpose

Your words made me feel safe, secure, and cared for

I wished for you what you could not find in yourself to give

I understood while feeling like I had the life sucked out of me

We still talk at times and I remain cool so not to show I still feel

For your words, your caring, knowing I will never have your love.

I find I am back to just going through the motions

Doing what I must emotionless

It has made an emptiness within me, and I know that

I will never feel whole again.  You were it for me. 

And with the emptiness, the loneliness I feel

I wish you well

As stars race horizons reflected in still lakes

And calm seas

I wish you well

As love lands on your shoulders still warm from the flight

I hope you are smiling as morning scatters into night

Back under the trees and into sweet dreams

I hope you know peace as gardens begin to grow

In all your favorite colors, I hope you will remember

The mist you see in the moonlight, is me, only a memory.

I wish you well.

Recently discussing individual feelings about women and how they can be, I think I came across as a bit crass in my description but it was how I felt and what I have seen in my years of living. Not all women are alike. Some will do anything to get what they want; the others have to work their backsides off to only get a piece of what would make them happy.

Men are no different, actually. They can have the same qualities as women. Women love the tall, dark and handsome men and having money along with the promises of never having a need or want unfulfilled, most women would kill for. Not me. As I write this I am thinking of how wonderful it would be to have an egg, a piece of charred toast and perhaps one piece of bacon cooked over an open fire outdoors. A man with more muscles on his body than in between his ears does nothing for me but other women swoon over them. Yet, men have needs or wants as women do. Some or most desire a beautiful and sexy looking woman. Some men want a simpler way of life, others want more. I cannot speak for all men, only the ones I have known.

Therein lies the issues of all the other women wanting him, the tall dark and handsome one, the same with a woman’s beauty and shape, all men wanting her. I have been with tall, dark and handsome. I have been with muscular men. I have had a man buy me things as a surprise…….constantly. That was what made me start to hate surprises, birthdays and Christmases. Other men gave gifts hoping to get something back. That is not me. If I am given a gift, make me something homemade. Do not buy me fancy trinkets that will only sit and gather dust. Do me a drawing whether in charcoal or with crayons. Take a piece of wood and make me a wooden spoon. And if you bring me flowers, pick some daisies off the side of the road because they are my all-time favorite. Then I am good. Simple things like that will win my admiration and my heart.

I have had people wanting me to join a dating site. I asked what I would put down for what I wanted. What they saw in me was nothing I saw in myself. I told them he would have to love dogs, did not mind cooking, was familiar with a vacuum cleaner or broom….and as I went on, my friends told me I was not looking for a man, I needed a wife. So that ended their pushing me to join a dating site. Silly girls. Did they not realize that men can cook, men do their own housework. What has this world come to.

Some men are as good at housekeeping as some women and some women are good at doing outside chores as men are. I also believe men want more than the love of a woman who thinks they are handsome. They also want to be heard, understood and accepted for how they are. And don’t I just love it when a man can open himself up, to share his wants, wishes and his dreams, even his bad times. Most do not dare open up afraid of looking silly or being made fun of. There is so much wasted time in our lives. Too many people are afraid to reach out for happiness, to take that chance to genuinely live.

This is what I believe.

Contrary to what the world often portrays, it is not money, looks, or flashy gestures that draw me in. It is presence, depth, and sincerity. I am most drawn to a man who wants to understand my heart. I want someone who listens not just to my words, but to the silences in between. Someone who does not rush to fix everything, but sits with me in my storms and holds space for my emotions, showing me that I am not alone.

Emotional support is one of the deepest forms of affection a woman desires. When she feels heard and seen in her vulnerability, when she knows she can come undone in front of you and still feel safe, that is when real love begins to bloom. She is not looking for perfection. She is searching for presence. She is looking for the kind of love that calms her chaos, not adds to it.

But it is not just emotional closeness that matters… physical affection holds weight too. A warm embrace, a hand held gently, a kiss placed on the forehead, these simple gestures speak volumes. They remind her that she is desired, that she is not just a mind to connect with, but a soul and body to cherish. In moments of touch, she feels grounded, valued, and deeply connected.

True intimacy for a woman goes beyond the physical. It is rooted in being understood. She wants a partner who looks past the surface and sees the woman within. The one with dreams she is afraid to say aloud, the one with scars from battles she has quietly survived, the one who still hopes, still believes, still longs to be known.

When a man makes the effort to know her fully, not just admire her beauty, but understand her essence, it creates a love that feels sacred. A deep emotional bond is what sustains love over time.

Women are drawn to men who make them feel emotionally safe where their vulnerability is met with compassion, not criticism. That safety becomes the soil where love can truly grow.

A man who respects her inner world, who listens with his heart and responds with gentleness, becomes unforgettable. So if you ever ask, “What do women really want?” They want to be held, not just in your arms, but in your thoughts, your efforts, and your intentions.

They are attracted to men who show up. Not just once in a while, but consistently. Who makes them feel heard, cherished, and understood. Not as an obligation, but as a privilege. Because in the end, real love is not about grand declarations; it’s about the quiet, steady presence of someone who truly sees you. And if you find a man like that, be sure to give back what he gives you. Never take each other for granted.

As I age, I learn more about myself. Whether I like what I learn or not is not the issue. It is facing what everyone must or should face. Some are unable to deal with their shortcomings where I refuse to sweep mine under the rug. Also, learning is a good thing. I am ruled by the moon. I find myself, every evening, looking up at the moon, wondering who else may also be. For some reason the energy I feel around me, from it, shifts me in ways I cannot explain.

I usually keep my emotions tucked away or focus mostly on what needs to get done, but this time it is bringing a softer pull inwards. I begin to feel more emotionally open, more sensitive to tone, and more aware of who feels safe to be around and who leaves me feeling drained, even if nothing obvious has happened.

I have always had the kind of energy that heightens my emotional instincts and my ability to sense what is unspoken. I notice how I can walk into a room and feel tension before anyone says a word, or sit next to someone and pick up on their sadness, even if they are smiling.

It is a blessing and a curse to feel what is happening beneath the surface, and the more I trust those instincts, the clearer everything begins to feel. I notice what my body has been trying to tell me all along. When my stomach tightens during a conversation or my energy fades after spending time with someone who always talks over me.

I can feel my emotions rising to the surface during this time and feel changeable, unpredictable, or stronger than usual and on a short notice. I find I tear up during a commercial, feel tenderness while folding laundry, or suddenly remember someone who made me feel loved in a simple, unforgettable way. These waves of feelings are all part of me, my birth and I invite myself to let my emotional truths move freely without judging myself for it. I shall feel what I feel while keeping everything to myself as I normally do where I have never had anyone who was remotely interested.

I am prioritizing comfort, care, and the safety that comes from emotional closeness. I find myself longing for home in a way that surprises me. I tell myself, instead of just craving a physical space, I realize I am searching for a feeling. Something that allows me to fully exhale, to be understood without needing to explain every part of myself, and to be held by someone or something that does not ask me to pretend.

The home that I wish for could come from a certain person who always remembers how I like my tea, a favorite meal that brings back warm memories, or a space I have made my own by surrounding it with things that feel soft and grounding. Or it could be a short note from someone who might care.

I wish for the people and places that offer emotional warmth to become more important. I feel a stronger pull to be around those who feel genuine, who check in without being prompted, and who care in the small, consistent ways that create trust over time.

And with not finding that home, I feel more protective of my emotions and energy, stepping away from anything that feels emotionally loud, unreliable, or shallow. There is less tolerance for connections that ask me to shrink, stay quiet, or carry the emotional weight on my own. Even if I do not say it out loud, I feel the difference between someone who is truly present and someone who is just going through the motions.

I always enter into reflection, as certain songs, smells, or places bring back vivid memories. I find I replay conversations in my mind or think about the version of myself that existed before certain events changed me. The pull toward the past offers me a chance to gather insight, to see how far I have come, and to notice which experiences helped shape my emotional landscape. My memory becomes a mirror, showing me what still matters and what I am ready to leave behind.

I think of my relationships, especially when I have been overextending myself or ignoring my own needs to keep the peace. I find I am more cautious to not speak words that upset others. I begin to recognize how much effort I have been putting into holding something together, or realizing that certain connections feel more like work than comfort and that I have been waiting for someone to show up for me in a way that never fully arrives. These truths can be difficult to accept, especially if I have invested time, energy, and love into trying to make things feel secure. Yet I feel that kind of emotional honesty that helps me face what is real without turning away from it.

I have found I start to feel more drawn to my inner world and less interested in explaining everything to others. I have such a desire for closeness, but only the kind that allows me to be fully seen. Shallow interactions feel tiring, and instead, I want a connection that feels reciprocal, where my emotions are held gently and my needs are met without having to over-explain or justify.

One of my subtle truths is how much strength exists in softness. There is a kind of courage required to let myself be affected, to admit when something hurts, and to say what I need without wrapping it in layers of politeness or apology. I never ask for but find I have a need to ask for help by being honest about what feels too heavy, whether physically or emotionally or admitting to myself that I miss someone. These moments might seem small from the outside, but they are big acts of growth, self-trust, and emotional maturity. Yet I hide what I dare not say.

So this is a time to care for myself in a physical way that supports my emotional well-being. I have started having slower mornings, cooking meals that fill my soul, wrapping myself in something soft, or spending time in places that makes my mind and soul relax. I need to rebuild my sense of safety, and tell my body that it is okay to rest, to feel, and to accept what may never be.

I want to find that my decisions become guided less by pressure and more by emotional truth, and I want to choose ones who make me feel safe rather than ones who only want what I will not give. I want to create more room for what makes me feel calm, cared for and whole.

Sometimes the same person cannot be found twice or they are found late in life.

Sometimes they are one of a kind, unique, and fill all the missing pieces within you that cannot be filled by anyone or anything else.

Be careful who you hurt, who you push away, and who you take for granted, because not everyone is replaceable.

We live in a world that promotes a perceived perception of a lot of options when the truth is that most of them are not worth chasing.

It seems that some people value finding the next shiny object more than they do valuing the person who is right in front of them.

You cannot always replace someone who truly understands your heart and soul, who truly wants the best for you, and who wants you in their life for genuine reasons.

These people are hard to find in todays superficial and promiscuous driven culture.

It does not matter how many more people you meet, or how many more relationships you have, no connection is ever going to be exactly the same, and it will leave a hole in your heart in the shape of who they were, that cannot be filled with the shape of anyone else.

Some will understand and appreciate who this person is, and some will come to realise who it was..

Do not assume that people will always stay, or that you will always have them.

Do not take them for granted or push them away.

Do not replace love with distance, and do not replace apologies with disrespect.

Do not assume that your heart will always be able to love the same way again, because you are not going to find the same person again.

People who are special know their worth, and not everyone is going to give you a second chance, nor are they going to wait for you to start appreciating and respecting what you have.

Be careful who you hurt because some people will feel so hurt and feel so betrayed by what you do or maybe what you did not do, that in order to be respectful towards themselves they have to painfully and silently walk away, and by the time you realise what you have lost, it will be too late.

Do not let your ego, your pride, or your carelessness make you realise too late that the person you lost was the one who will always mean the most, and the one that you can never ever find ever again.

Take my advice and … Appreciate what you have, before it becomes what you had..

.

I received an email from a woman who had been in one of our discussions about a month ago. She said I had given her things to think about. She wanted my advice. I did the best I could however I am not always right. I have left her email to me, not in italics. I told her she was one lucky girl.

When my 89-year-old boyfriend and I, three years younger, first talked about moving in together, we asked friends and family for their opinions. Naysayers worried that we were “having a serious case of dementia.’’ One friend asked why I wanted to be a “nurse with a purse,’ a decades-old expression referring to caring for an old man who might also be financially needy. I wondered what they would call a man who would care for his girlfriend if needed.

A few, like my widowed friends, Sheila and Arthur, both in their early 90s, offered more positive thoughts. Six years earlier, the widowed couple sold their homes and moved together into an independent senior living community. “It wasn’t easy at first,’’ said Sheila during our girls’ lunch together. “Arthur’s son feared that his dad was setting a bad example for his 20-year-old grandson.’’ But now, everyone is on board, she added, that young man is living with his girlfriend!

Moving in together is a big step at any age, but for my boyfriend and me, two folks in the sunset of our lives with the clock ticking more quickly than we’d like to admit, decisions needed to be carefully evaluated. To that point, we made a list of pros and cons, including issues that could arise unexpectedly. If, for example, he got seriously ill, would I be able to step up to the plate and be his caretaker?  And what if I got ill; would he be able to care for me? Both of us, fortunately, have long-term health insurance policies, which would help defray the costs for an aide to help us if needed.

No one can predict the future, but here are some of the pros and pitfalls of our decision-making process that helped us decide. Friends wonder why we don’t worry about tomorrow. But our combined lifetime experiences have made us realize that the future is now.

First and foremost, it was crucial that our families supported our decision. My son-in-law, Marc, said that seeing the two of us holding hands and speaking kindly to each other made him ask why we hadn’t done so earlier.

One of my boyfriends daughters agreed, but having gone through a divorce in her earlier life, she advised us to seek legal counsel regarding our finances. To that end, we have put everything in writing in our contract. We have also noted who pays for what and when.

My friend Evelyn commented that, as much as you plan, when it comes to money, your children are keeping an eye on their possible inheritance. She should know. She had been living with her 82-year-old boyfriend in his house when, after three years of togetherness, he unexpectedly passed away.  Since she had no written contract allowing her to remain in his house for an extended period of time, the boyfriend’s children rather unkindly showed her the door.

Because my boyfriends apartment is larger than mine, I will move into his. We have both signed documents as to what to do when one dies and what the other person’s responsibility is to maintain the apartment.

So why would I even entertain the thought of living together rather than continue with what we have now, which is commonly referred to as LAT or Living Apart Together? Let’s start at the beginning. Both widowed for many years, we’ve kept our homes separate. We liked our independence. My boyfriend has his interests; I have mine.

Slowly, I can’t explain how it happened (nor can he), we began having occasional overnight dates. After a year or so, we enjoyed a weekend together, whether it was to socialize with friends or spend an afternoon at the beach.

Now five years into our relationship, I’m most happy when I cuddle in bed with my boyfriend, and sad when the weekend is over and I return to my home. But, without warning, the decision to live together came one day, not long ago, as I was leaving my boyfriends house.

I felt sad to go and ran back to his apartment to give him a hug. I didn’t have to go very far as he was coming back outside to embrace me as well. At that moment, there was no more thinking about what to do, no more what if this or that happens, only the joy of being together.

Okay, before you think I’m a bit too old and perhaps too foolish, rest assured that my boyfriend and I did more homework than just paying attention to our finances. A Palm Beach psychologist with whom we sought counseling to help us see if we were heading in the right direction spoke with us.

At first, he talked about the pleasurable aspects of a physical/intimate, loving relationship at any age. My boyfriend and I are on the right path, he added, as he encourages older couples to find pleasurable moments to share things such as cuddling, watching movies together, or just enjoying a candlelit meal.

We also discussed the importance of finding time to separate from each other, as both of us are used to living alone. My early morning routine is spent at the gym; My boyfriend  likes a leisurely breakfast, reading the financial news and world events. We get together in the late afternoon, relaxing with a glass of wine and sharing our thoughts about our friends and families, even the gossip in our Florida senior living community.

Before we left, the psychologist asked each of us what we liked about the other. My boyfriends answer came quickly: “She’s my best friend. I can tell her anything, and it’s all OK.”

I had to think a little longer, then had difficulty holding back the tears when I said, “I don’t walk the way I used to, my belly bulges and my face is full of wrinkles. But when he looks at me, none of that matters. I just feel special.”

I could only tell her how I felt.   

As we grow older, we begin to understand a powerful truth that love, on its own, is never enough to sustain a relationship.  I agree, love is a beautiful thing.  It is a connection that fuels the passion and creates a bond. 

The challenge is that it takes more than just feelings.  It takes being accountable for your actions.  It takes the consistency of being able to love this person all the time, not only when it is convenient for you.  It takes open and honest communication.  There will be silent gaps and  misunderstandings that do not mean they do not love you.  Sometimes people have to have time and space to deal with things that have cropped up.  I think empathy and understanding is so important.  The ability to see their world through your eyes and visa versa.  And you both will need what I call emotional space so you both can breathe and enjoy what you do individually but to make sure you do not lose yourself. 

I cannot say how either of you handle disagreements.  I can only tell you how I am that way.  If I do not like something that was said or done, I can say how I feel, calmly, but then I drop it.  It’s over.  I do not hold onto anger nor hold grudges.  I have seen more couples have an argument and call it quits because they did not know how to say what each other felt then to think things over.  It isn’t who is right or wrong.  It is the ability to deal with things and come to an agreement.  Even if it is to agree to disagree.  And do not be so proud that you cannot say that you are sorry.  There is where the empathy and emotional intelligence comes in.  Do not take each other for granted.   You both need to have healthy boundaries to protect your relationship without suffocating it.  Appreciation and respect so neither one feels invisible.  Some people are unable to voice how they feel so if either one of you ever says, “Text me when you get to……wherever they are going” shows love.  Making sure they take their umbrella if it’s raining is an act of love toward the other person.  I know these may be dumb examples but it is the little things that show love and that you care. There are so many people that are never shown care for anyone else.  Support for the everyday things whether it is during a struggle or a quiet moment.  Honesty, loyalty is most important because without trust, love will die.

And yes, it is good to set everything down on paper. I have no love in my life but if I ever had one that I knew would work out, I would leave my home and everything to him where I have no one to leave it to. It would be for his protection and ensure he had a home and resources to stay here if I should pass. He would have no worries with me putting everything in trust, so no probate issues. No people coming out of the woodwork so to speak. What he did with it when he was getting ready to make his exit, would be up to him. I would only feel good to know he would always be taken care of, with me and without me.

And might I say how lucky you are to have this love. Cherish what you both have. A lot of us never have it. 

I have always found it easier to be friends with men more than women.  I believe it stems from my warm and caring relationship with my own father.  My mother was cold and unfeeling, with children she never wanted in the first place.  I do connect easily with women if we click on similar subjects.  I have never wanted to connect with ones who think the reason for living is to shop or gossip.  A lot of women I have known like to kick a man or for that fact, another woman, when they are down, use one only to get what they want.  I have known women who use their children against their fathers.  And if I am to be honest, I have met a lot of women who can be catty bitches with nothing ever making them happy except to making others lives a living hell.  That is not what I can deal with. 

I tend to like strong yet gentle women as friends.  The ones that have been through hell and back.  The ones that can do the work on themselves to bring them back to the ways that are best for them.  I know this may seem odd to you but it is how I have always been.  I do have female friends yet they live far from me.  We can talk about anything.  I am a member of a group where we get together at a certain time and talk about whatever comes to mind or has bothered us lately.  Some I agree with.  Some I do not however in that place and time, we all agree that we are individuals and are entitled to how we feel.  We make no apologies, we discuss, we laugh, we open our souls. 

A while back I made a friend on another page.  Yes, it was a male.  We had much in common yet much not as such.  The more we talked, the more I felt for him.  I ended up telling him I loved him.  Love, but not in the way love usually goes.  He had been through his own hell but he dragged himself back.  He lived every day as if it were to be his last.  I think I frightened the bejesus out of him, which I did not mean to, but being as I am, I do not always use words as I should.  My love for him was for his compassion, his ability to listen to me, and for his understanding, the openness he gave back and his giving me grace.  I had the hardest time trying to tell him that. I could speak of the pride I had for him and everything else but the love I felt was not inviting him to live with me nor walk down the aisle with me because I would not know how to entertain anyone for any length of time from being alone for so long. We both live alone and rather like it.  I think he craves more personal interactions at times than I do.  Either or, he is my friend.  A friend that I dearly love as if we had known each other a lifetime and were there for each other in those times.  I hope to share in his happy and sad times.  I know I will always be there for him.

This is why I feel the deepest love for him.  It comes when you realise that this person helped you touch wounds you could have never found alone.   It comes when they stayed with you as you burnt in the fire of becoming someone new.  It comes when they didn’t leave because it got too hard. It comes when you find your way back to connection again and again.

No one can tell me I have not said things to him that made him want to tell me to go to hell.  He was being unselfish with me, still sharing his time with me.  That is being a real friend. And while he may have wanted to knock me upside the head so to speak,  he stuck it out with me.  That is priceless in a friend which I always hope I have in him.

Some of my women friends do not go that distance when we are discussing things.  They much prefer to sweep things under the rug instead of dealing with them.  I feel sorry and at the same time sad for them.  It did make me wonder if perhaps some women were like the men who have a hard time showing emotions.   

I only had a small bit of time to see how my girls had been doing today. They wanted to discuss age. One lady has turned 50 and wrote:

I am turning 50 on Tuesday. I want to know if things get better.

I, myself, did not know what to tell her. I was to assume her years up to being almost 50 were not what she liked. I thought back through my years.

My 20’s were not the best for me personally. I had a son but lost my daughter. My work seemed to be my salvation. It was only in the still of the night when my thoughts were mostly heavy. I worked a full-time job plus a job that needed me to be at my best with perfect concentration. It helped me not thinking of my loss. And saving the littles was most rewarding yet heart-wrenching because of losing mine. I had taken only a week off to have surgery then I was right back at work. I needed it so I guess my 20s were about hardship and a hell of a lot of learning.

My 30’s I want to say were all about hormones. It was not that bad but there were times……It was all work. I did take my son fishing a lot. It is so meditative to be out on a lake in a boat with nothing but the sounds of nature surrounding us. He was not interested in skiing so I would go by myself, losing myself. Everyone thinks it is not a hard thing to ski downhill. It is not but it all depends on a persons mindset and concentration. It is about speed, navigating a course with minimal turns. It involves speed, courage and risks. And there are risks. Especially skiing as I did. It was like I had nothing to lose. So I can say my 30’s were seeing how far I would push myself. I ran, I did weights, I did anything to push myself as hard as I could and still I felt the loss.

Near my mid 30’s I bought property far out into the country. I still ran and worked out but I had stopped pushing myself to near exhaustion or thought I had. The serenity was what I needed yet the work on the property was something else. I had dump truck loads of dirt dumped just inside my driveway. I did not have a tractor but I did have a wheelbarrow and that is what I used to move all of the dirt. My dad always taught me when I had hard work to do, to start the furthest away. It was true but man did I ache. The property which had the trees removed was hilly and full of rocks. Yet I plugged away on it when I was home. I think it took me 4 years to get it as I wanted it. The rocks I pulled out with my truck in granny gear using a chain, were made into stone walls around the property. Some rocks I could not move so they stayed. I had always tanned easily and got very dark working outside. I remember my dad asking me if I was sweating and swearing. After eating something I found I fell asleep in my recliner most nights. I think the driveway was the worst. I had Bill McGruder drop dump truck loads of gravel starting up toward my home then down the long driveway. As I look back, I do not see how I did it and work but I did.

My late 30‘s My son was grown and ventured out on his own. I was still running and working out with our old crew. I used to mow an acre with a self propelled mower until I found a used riding mower. I would hit those rocks left behind sometimes so I decided to spray paint them different colors. That way I would miss them while mowing. When at work, the neighbors would ask me where I found those big flowers. I had no idea of what they meant until I realized they were talking about the colorful rocks. It was peaceful mowing. I had time to think as I mowed.

I ended up moving to live in the UK in my late 30’s Man, what a culture shock. First I worked at a school. I was told that now that I was a professional, I had to look and act the part all the time. I had never been one to wear posh clothes but it was what it was. I wore suits but with skirts, dresses, pumps or heels. I had never been fancy at all so this was a whole new way of dressing for me. I never got rid of my backpack however. I would always be a backpack girl.

My backpack had always been a part of me. I had slept out under the stars in a sleeping bag using my backpack for a pillow. I missed bathing in the streams. It was serenity at it’s best. And now, here I was wearing clothes out of Dorothy Perkins. I was considered upper class. “If they only knew” I thought to myself. Yet I tried playing the part while in view where I lived but when Julienne and I broke away, we lived it up.

I think my 40’s were my best years as far as knowing myself better. I took chances most would not have but I enjoyed what I did. I had my biggest Aha moments there. I met a friend that I would have for life. Too bad Julienne lived in France. The fun we would have on my days off. The mischief we got into. When I took a week or two off, we would travel.

My 50’s were of a bit of turmoil. Dealing with my dad’s money or I guess I should have said my money, at Smith and Barneys did my head in. I was never good in math. I did not want to deal with it. Money had never mattered much to me. As long as I could pay my bills, put food on the table and some in savings, I was good. I let my lawyer deal with it. I actually did not care if I got it but it ended up in my bank account. If I had known what would eventually happen to most of it, well, I would have done differently with it. Again, it is what it was. With personal issues going on in my home, I only worked and had to let a lot roll down my back. Nothing I could do about it now. I cannot say it was bad years but dealing with what I had at home was the problem.

My 60’s were good. Still working out but not running because I could not. I had a hip replacement. And with having the replacement, it ended up giving me lymphedema. A lot of learning curves I believe, would be summing up my 60’s.

My 70’s have only begun. They are turning out pretty damn good. I am taking the time to get to know me without any interferences. I would like to have someone in my life but I am still learning who I am. I believe I will always learn whether about myself or what interests me. Will I ever find someone special for myself? I cannot say. They would have to be pretty damn special for me to want to even take that chance to let someone into my life, into my heart.

So what could I tell this woman. I did not post all she had said. Her issues were too personal to share, even with strangers. I protect anyone I choose to write about. I did not want to lie to her. I did not want to paint an ugly picture either. We are all different, think differently. Some of us have someone in our lives, however she is as I, alone and having nobody, so I understood her better than most. I asked her to wait a bit to see what others might say. And what they said was:

Your body will keep decaying no matter what you do. Eat. Drink. Have fun. We’re all dying. – which is true.

50 is a great age. 50 was like being 30. – A good answer

Just turned 70. I was told it’s the new 40. – Hoping we all felt that way

Lessen your expectations – I did not know what to think of this even though it is truer as we get a bit older.

I completely turned my life around when I turned 50. Some may say it was a midlife crisis – but I finally found joy in life and (some) confidence in myself. I got a tattoo, divorced my abusive husband, finished my degree, got another tattoo, got a great job AND started my own small business, dated – that was fun – and unexpectedly met my sweetie. I’ve been living my best life ever since I turned 50 and realized that “someday” was NOW!

I thought this answer was good. Tattoo…if I had one it would be the rolling stones tongue on the cheek of my ass I said. We all loved she found love. We were jealous and her degrees and jobs garnered kudos..

You’ll certainly start to reflect about life, so yes it is all about how you look at things. This is a time if you haven’t already to start doing the things you love.  – This was a good answer.

Alone ever since. Family in hometown encouraged me to move back & rejoin them” I did. They really have no time for me. I am alone. I ate well, exercised ( including weight training) 5 days a week since 32. Developed of course osteoporosis. Needed parathyroid surgery 3yx – Nobody ever said life was easy I thought.

Last one damaged vocal cords, so I sound like a frog. It’s irritating to others. I drive. Am totally independent. Take care of all my own needs. I am alone. I have no permanent home. I rent & rent goes up every year. Not bad until this year. So not sustainable. I had no one to call when I needed to get to an ER in 2023 or this past May. I am alone. I love the mountains, trees, river…but I need a permanent home & someone to help if I need. So I will need to move back to a state I really don’t like, but a home & help will be achievable. I don’t feel 80 but truth is I am. I maybe fairly strong physically today…but that MAY not last. So need to sacrifice surroundings for people. I love the people. I love the trees, mountains, river, walking trails,bike paths. Not what I hoped for, planned, sacrificed, or looked forward to. – I had no idea what to say about this.

I only posted this but spoke to her via messenger.

Attitude is everything I will admit. The aches and pains might get more. I find with every decade, we change. We lose friends, perhaps make new ones. We no longer enjoy what we used to so we find new things to interest us. I am 71. My advice to you would be to walk and not just for health issues. Really look around to see what most miss. I bet if you do this, you will find something new every day on the same walk. Drink water. Get proper sleep. Eat healthier. Find something that brings you joy when you do it. And having faith doesn’t hurt either. IF you like yoga, that is great for lengthening muscles. It brings a peace of mind also. I journal every day. And learn to laugh at yourself. Good luck to you. Just wait till you hit the big 70….lol

I chose not to post the others. My personal feeling was that they were really cruel to this poor woman. So much for our get together for today. It really shows how different we all are. Some deal with age welcoming it as it is. Some deal with not so well. It is what it is.