Reflecting on Growing Older
I’m not sure why I thought a picture of a bird bath should go here. I just couldn’t think of anything else in my photo library that would work for this blog post.
First of all, I want to start this entry by stating that I am sorry for not updating this website as often as some would like. I was working my full time job, among other duties in my professional and personal life, and I have been dealing with some troubles that have occurred since then. There are some details that I believe need to be addressed going forward, but I don’t want to go too far into anything personal, so I will do my best to avoid going into TMI territory.
In July, I turned 37 years old. This is supposed to be a time to celebrate another year of life; but, for the past several years, I have looked less forward to my actual birthday each year. It was only this year when I was finally able to why I feel this way into words. I find myself not desiring physical gifts to open in front of a group of people (don’t get me wrong, I still am grateful when I receive one), rather enjoying being together with my guests at my residence or a place of my choosing. Perhaps this is because I am finally maturing to the point where I find greater value in spending time with those closest and most important to me instead of unwrapping a box/opening an envelope to give me a gift of my choosing at a later date. But this begs the question: Is there anything in life that I desire to receive from people in celebration of an event? Honestly, the best gifts I want from people are really to be better than they are now, to stop making a past mistake that they have been making for years, to stop doing/not doing something in their lives that is detrimental to their health (physical, mental, or any other type). Either that, or I am just sad that I am not a kid anymore. While I believe that the true answer is a mixture of both, the latter is more likely.
I bet you are thinking “At this point in your life, why haven’t you accepted that you aren’t a child any longer?” I have had difficulty answering this question for quite a while, and I believe that any answer I provide would only be considered an excuse. If I were to give some kind of response, I think one of the biggest reasons stems from a medical condition I was born with, but wasn’t diagnosed with until I turned 18, and didn’t sink in until much later in life.
I have partial Autism. Specifically, I have what was once called “Asperger’s Syndrome” but has now been reclassified as “Autism Spectrum Disorder”. This is relevant because I cannot handle change as well as people aren’t Autistic. This can range from a television show not airing at specific time/day anymore, to losing a sock, to losing a random object in a room that doesn’t have any apparent significance to other people, to losing a charging cable to an electronic device I haven’t used in over a decade.
While writing this, I realized this is starting to go off track, so I will post some pictures of my pets while I try to gather my thoughts. They will be placed any time this happens.
This is Cheese. I took her in after my first cat was put to sleep. A family member of mine couldn’t take care of her anymore, so I took her in immediately when I learned about her.
Here is another oddity I have now that I am growing older: Do you know how when your parents look at you, and they say they only see the version of you from when you were much younger? Such as age 1? Or 4? Or some other age? I have noticed that, while I don’t have any children of my own (as of this writing), I am starting to see myself think of people from my past in a similar manner. By people from my past, I am not only referring to family and friends that I am close to, but people I knew in grade school that I am friends with on social media. Whenever I think of a photo they post online, I end up pasting the younger version of that person on that post in my mind. This makes think of the phenomenon where ones children will start to display the mannerisms of their parents. No matter how hard we try, there are some characteristics of our parents that we cannot truly escape. We can try to go out of our way to change these quirks, but we are only postponing the inevitable.
Another inevitability is how our hair changes. I did not notice my hair turning gray until I turned 35, and while I took steps to stop hair loss (and was no longer able to take those steps), I still think of myself with my face from high school when remember a moment from my life after graduation from high school. To confuse me even more, this happens when I look at myself in a mirror; I don’t notice (right away) how my face has changed since then.
On the plus side, this sometimes applies to servers and bartenders when I am ordering alcohol. In my late 20’s, people still wanted to see my ID because they still thought I was in high school. If I were to hazard a guess as to why this happened, I chalk it up to avoiding growing up for so long. The best part is this means when I turn 80, I will likely look 50!
This is one of three cats I rescued around nine months after we took in Cheese. Her name is Speckles, and she is the mother of two boys who entered our garage on day.
I could go on much longer about how irritated I am at streaming services for becoming what it was supposed to an alternative to, or how my favorite hobby of video games is going in directions that make me question whether or not I still want to be a part of it; but I honestly feel like they would be nothing more than the ramblings and rants of a man who can’t find something to like about the future, of someone who responds to modern facts of life with “Everything was better in my day”! If I go on for much longer, this post will never end. These are just thoughts I needed to put to text.
The cat on the left is Spector. This little rascal was able hide in our basement for a full day not long after rescuing him and his family. Now, this kid loves to petted like he was never shown affection a single day in his life. His nicknames range from “Lover Boy” to “Man Whore”. Don’t let his affectionate manner fool you; this cat has plenty of muscle, and his claws can put Wolverines’ to shame!
The cat on the right is Simba. Despite his stripes and name, he is not much of a fighter. He is the family scaredy cat (see what I did there?). He also happens to have the softest fur out of all cats in my home. Oddly enough, his meow sounds more like a squeak.