I didn’t think it was going to be this way.
Invisible. Discarded. Disregarded. Ignored. Brushed Off.
I had no idea.
I used to turn heads. Now I barely get a glance.
Young people rush past me on the sidewalk like I’m invisible.
I speak, and sometimes I feel unheard.
Not because my voice is soft, but because I’m just an old lady.
No one really takes me seriously anymore. My words and wisdom fall flat. On deaf ears.
I look in the mirror and I don’t recognize the woman staring back at me. She has sad eyes. Her spark is gone.
Her youth is gone. Twinkles have turned into wrinkles.
I stopped colouring my hair and everything changed. My face changed. The way people look at me and treat me has changed.
No one told me this part was going to be really hard. The part where age replaces youth. The part where I look in the mirror and the woman staring back at me is old now.
She’s still beautiful, though. She’s not just an old lady.
I see ads with gorgeous 32-year-olds telling me how to “age gracefully.”
What does a 32-year-old woman know about aging?
Why do we have to age gracefully? What’s wrong with embracing aging? When did that become wrong?
I used to laugh so hard it hurt. I struggle to find anything to laugh at these days.
I used to be the one who could light up a room. Now I sit quietly in rooms with people who don’t even realize I’m there.
They call it “freedom” when the kids leave and when retirement comes around.
But I don’t feel free. I feel alone and empty.
How is it free when you have no one to share stories with? How is this living and being happy?
I don’t know how to talk to my son anymore. He’s not a boy. He’s not my baby. He’s a grown man.
He says he’d like to travel to faraway places, but I’m getting old now, and he should stay close.
Am I that old now? That makes me sad.
I have to read things two or three times now. Did I understand it correctly? I’m scared.
I double-check everything these days. Did I lock the door? Is the stove off?
I have to watch my words now. Was that inappropriate? Did I offend someone?
Why do I have high blood pressure all of a sudden? What’s happening to me?
Will these eye floaters get so bad in time that I won’t be able to see well enough to write anymore? That scares me.
I want to scream some days. Not for attention, but to let people know I still exist. I’m still here and I kinda matter.
And I’m not just an old lady.
I wish some young person would take the time to talk to me like I’m a human being, not just someone’s grandmother.
I feel like a ghost. A ghost in my own Hallmark movie.
How do I go from being the most popular woman in town to being tossed aside, neglected and forgotten?
How? No one told me it was going to be like this. There was no manual. No warning. It just happened.
And how do I emotionally navigate this? I have no clue.
I’m not bitter. I’m tired.
Tired of being invisible.
Tired of pretending I’m ok.
Tired of trying to figure out what the hell is happening to me, every fucking day.
Tired of being pushed aside to make room for 32-year-olds filled with Botox, false eyelashes and lip plumpers telling me how to age.
I’m not jealous — I’m grieving.
There’s a difference.
Grieving the woman I used to be.
Grieving the woman who became invisible when the grey hair and wrinkles replaced the full head of chocolate luscious locks and the smooth, youthful face.
No one told me it was going to be like this.
But I’m still here, dammit.
And I still matter.
I have a voice, I have wisdom, I have a heart full of love. I have a lot to offer. I’m more than just an old lady.
I’m a human being with a history and great stories to tell. I’m a woman with a passion for helping dogs and other human beings.
I want you to see me. Please don’t forget me. I’m here. And I matter.
I’m not just an old lady.
ox iva xo
