I’m in recovery from a mild manic episode. Taking meds as prescribed. Spent the day resting and then I got to sit with both of my daughters and talk (without tv) for a while and it was really nice. Perfect, actually. I didn’t get tiramisu which is ok because I got a chocolate frosty.

The girls kept showing me pictures of when they were little. I still remember their little kids selves-sometimes I miss them but know they are tucked away somewhere inside their little adult bodies.

Then, they showed me pictures they had taken of me over the years. Wow. That was…something. They say I look beautiful like the Renaissance paintings.

:(

I know I have resting statue face. No one wants that.

My sister was the conventionally pretty one with her blond curls and hazel eyes. I always wanted crazy wild hair like hers.

One thing I did notice in all of the pictures is that I’m changing since I came back from the gulf coast. I think the supplements I’ve been taking are helping me, and I haven’t had nearly as much vodka.

My hair is falling out like crazy though. I know this can be from hormonal changes, my thyroid, and I had very low vitamin D. I’m trying to be patient. I find white hairs everywhere-even on my dog.

I told a friend that if I lose all my hair, I’ll be his Ancient One to his Dr. Strange. I’m watching Dr. Strange right now. My favourite.

A long time ago, before Brittany Spears did it, I had a mania-induced panic and shaved my head on Christmas. I won’t share why I did that here, but I really shaved it all off. It felt liberating. One of my Nepali girlfriends said I looked like a lady monk and we giggled about it.

While I would like to keep my hair, if it falls out, I ask God that it favours me as I age. It certainly didn’t favour me back then!

Turning 48 today has led me to really think about the time I have left. My dad isn’t much older than I am, and neither is my mom. Both are challenged at relatively youthful golden ages.

As I have been ungrateful about my life, I also feel a sense of duty to live well for my remaining years.

I have never felt like aging renders one unattractive, and I normally date older men because they are the more attractive ones-to me. I had this idea that if I were the younger partner, the balance of powers would equate. Only, sometimes your partner, despite their age, is not your equal.

I’m not afraid to be considered ugly, unsexy, or a grandma. I’m actually ok with that. I’ve had my fill of lust. Lust is a never-ending pit of desire that leaves one without real satiation.

I think we are all beautiful, at any age, when we are taking care of our bodies, minds, and spirits. I don’t think we have to meet standards of physical perfection or be a certain age to be beautiful.

I can see that the changes I am making, and the care I am giving my body is causing me to change into who I want to be-a healthier version of myself. So, I’m going to keep up with those changes.

Well, I have to rest. I’m going to snuggle in my blankets and watch Dr. Strange.

Thank you for following, and I hope you feel beautiful at every age in your lifetime.