Anyway, middle age isn't exactly like a bomb. It's stealthier and more nuanced. It's not like all of a sudden, I'm not young anymore, but sometimes it feels that way. A glance in the car's rear-view mirror, or being asked if I want the Senior Discount, for example.
But I think I am learning to love it, or at least focus my mind on the good things about aging. I had a familiar dream last night - familiar to many of you, too, probably. I was in college, but I was the age I am now. I hadn't gone to class and it was midterm day. At first I panicked as in other versions of this dream. Unprepared! Anxiety attack!
|This was my face. Source.|
In my dream I tried cheating from the younger students (like plastic surgery?). Unsuccessful. Finally I took the test to the professor (the society that "grades" us? or just another aspect of myself) and told him I hadn't been to class, and to go ahead and flunk me. He was kind, and said, "It's OK, this test isn't that big a deal." I then experienced peace and acceptance in my dream; it was wonderful.
As a psychotherapist, I pay attention to my dreams and those my clients share with me. Sometimes dreams are the place to work through our anxiety. Sometimes they illuminate a piece of truth that's been simmering in us for a long time.
|Sweet dreams, everyone. Source.|
This learning to love the bomb might be just for today, but I think it's likely a more lasting shift. That's why I wanted to share it with you, and hear if you've had any similar revelations, whether waking or sleeping.
Have a splendid, dreamy day and stay fabulous,