Somehow my biological time mechanism that humans are supposed to have, that one that, were we to not have clocks and the ability to go against nature with our artificial lights, kicks in and tells us, it's dark-go to sleep, it's light-wake up, has never worked properly. No matter how early I go to bed, my body's preferred wake up time is 10 or 11 am. In order for me to feel well, I must sleep at least 8 hours, preferably 9, but I'll sleep 12 or 13 if I don't use an alarm. I read in a few places that people who sleep as long as I like to sleep don't live as long, but I often wondered if it counts when you've lived a life that requires you only sleep 6-8 hours because you must get up for work. Is it what your body craves or what you actually make it do that determines these things, because if it's what I've made it do, I'm safe, I should live a good long life, at least based on my length of sleep because even though I'd love to sleep 12 to 13 hours every night, I actually don't. I like to sleep. But I don't like going to bed.

I will stay up well beyond time to go to sleep, even if I'm tired. I used to read late into the night, now I'm on the internet. Part of the reason for that is that at night it's usually quiet. It's the one time in my life where I can feel like I'm alone. I need that. Living with other people distresses me. I would be perfectly content living alone. When I say that to friends who are alone they tell me, no, you wouldn't. Be glad of what you have. Well, I am glad, but the fact remains that living with people distresses me. I KNOW that I would be perfectly content living by myself. Not as a hermit of course. I need people. But I need that alone time, too. And I can tell you that I know I'd like it because I've done it, and it was wonderful.

Well, as I said, I'm not a morning person, so waking up is never a good thing for me. I'm used to the icky feelings I have when I open my eyes and realize that I have to get up. But this morning was different. I could tell that my internal pharmacist had mixed my brain and body chemicals in the wrong proportions. This was not the normal ickies. This was my day of regret, the day when the consequences of my actions would come to roost.

Ever since I cut out sugar as much as possible from my diet I've had fewer days of depression. I've felt more myself. Adding whole grains, nuts, fruits and vegetables in greater quantities brings my mind to its usual upbeat, positive state. Adding exercise gives me an almost high. You'd think I'd make a habit, then, of all those things that I know will make me feel good, but I'm sorry, vegetables and exercise simply aren't as pleasurable as a slice of cheesecake with blackberry topping. IT JUST ISN'T! So sometimes I fall off the wagon. I crave the sugary goodness and just can't say no, even though I know I'll regret it. As I'm regretting it today.

Tears, anger, impatience, frustration, they have made their home in me today. Ugh.

My name means a pledge, so loyalty, too, defined me. Whatever else I am, or am not, I remain loyal to the people I love. That's different in my way of thinking than being faithful. A faithful person is the kind who can maintain all the details and niceties of a relationship. They call you up, they remember your birthday, they develop the relationship, they're mindful of hurting your feelings. I'm afraid that I'm not that person. I can do those things, but they'll come out of the blue after a long time of nothing because I'll be thinking of you and want to do something nice because I DO love you. I'm not good at the faithfulness of relationships. But I am loyal in the sense that I will always love you. If you call on me, I'll be right there. If someone disses you, I'll defend you. If you get down on yourself I'll do what I can to lift you up. All because I discovered when I was young that my name means a pledge, so I feel that if I've given my friendship or my love, you should be able to count on that as you would someone's word of honor.

Silly, isn't it, these notions that we take into our heads? I know that I've let people down along the way, even the ones most dear to me. So maybe they don't see me as I see me. As I get older, though, I'm finding it (somewhat) easier to see myself as I really am, though I still want to hold on to those romantic notions of myself. And as I see myself as I really am, I'm learning to accept me as well, to live according to what I am, not as what I want to be. I don't always succeed. And sometimes I get confused. But I have to say that I like being in my 50s much better than I thought I would. I feel a freedom I didn't used to feel. The age isn't a problem to me. My body is, though.

When I was younger I had this notion that I would be someone who would grow old gracefully. I liked the idea of that. Ha! As I felt age overtaking me I started fighting it tooth and nail, but it can't be beat, only camouflaged somewhat with dyes and creams.

I got here too fast. And I barely get a chance to get used to one change before another takes place, and unlike in our teen years, these aren't pleasant changes at all. I still wish I could be someone who could age gracefully, with calm and wisdom, that I could move into this new phase of life with confidence and a chuckle at how seriously I took it all.

Even so, I like where I am. I may whine about the physical things taking place in my body, but this is a good time of my life, quite like no other. It has its ups and downs, its confusions and disappointments, but I'm living it like I've never lived before, more fully, more openly, more as myself rather than as someone I thought I was supposed to be. It would be nice, though, if I could have brought my 20 year old body with me to do the living in.

Note: This was originally started as a comment to a blog post by Father Luke, but as it got longer I decided to develop it further and turn it into a blog post of my own.