I don't know how to be anything else. I do not know how to become someone else. A she that is more desirable, more beautiful, thinner, taller, smaller in some places, bigger in others. I don't know how to be a she that someone wants above all others. At 53, I gotta stop looking into the eyes of men who look past me. Men whose gaze is for a she that I don't happen to be. A she that is on his wish list.
I am a 53-year-old Sister. Witty, highly intelligent, a go-getter, funny, engaging, and on some occasions considered quite pretty. I am always beautiful I believe. So I am not wallowing in some kind of self-pity soup. I am weary of going out and being on display hoping someone will notice me. Pick me. Engage me. See me and be in awe of my being.
I am the worst kind of fool... Magical, sparkly and effervescent. I see the goodness everywhere. I am a girl for a silver lining on the rainiest days. And yet, here I sit and type about the aloneness of my life. A life filled with so much that I am overwhelmed on any given day with, goings-on, happenings, good times, all manner of fetes!
I don't want to be wallowing in sadness. This isn't about sadness. It is about aloneness. The kind of aloneness I experience when I wake in the night and there is no one to roll into. Aloneness where there is no one to talk to, laugh with, joke with, work shit out with.
I have fine people in my life. People who bring me joy, and peace and happiness and fun, and camaraderie and sisterhood. I just have to quit wishing for a different reality. Embrace what is and turn my attention toward things I have some real influence and impact on.
It is time to give up the notion of whatever I was hoping and wishing for. I'm good with this. The aloneness stays. The aloneness stays and has a place at the table. This chapter closes.
Make-up: Winter Carson
Hair: Hair's Kay Salon & Sangerster Barber.
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