The Numbers Game

Hourglass and clock
Photo by Jordan Benton from Pexels

Like it or not, everyone gets a little older each year. (In case you’re wondering, I fall into the NOT category) Some people luck out and don’t show that age. They pass through decades without a hint – inside or out. Other people feel every passing minute and it shows. And then you have people that may not wear their age on the outside, but their internal mechanisms fail. (Time comes in a close second in the sense of humor department to the universe)

And stopping time? Not possible.

Personally, I’m a huge fan of the adage “Getting older is mandatory, but growing up is optional.” I know I can’t stop the years from adding up. And my body lets me know, in no uncertain terms, that I’m not a spritely kid anymore. However, I’m not about to hunker down in a rocking chair on the front porch. (Not that I’m THAT old, either – in case you were suspicious) I don’t think my numerical age should dictate how I live my life. And, ironically, that knowledge came with getting older. (Hysterical, I know)

The moment you throw in the towel on the things you love and enjoy because you hit…I don’t know, some weird age threshold, is the moment your body DOES start to quit on you. The MIND dictates how old you feel (most days). And if your brain tells you to belly flop into the pool, run around with a Nerf gun, or kick back on the porch with a stack of comic books, then arguing you’re “too old” to do so violates your programming. Does knitting or arranging coffee table books HONESTLY sound like more fun to you? (If you enjoy knitting, this isn’t meant as a dig – do what you love) Look at the difference in activity level! One’s going to keep your body moving and pumping blood through every limb. The other? It encourages sedentary life and stagnant blood flow.

Now tell me which is healthier.

Laughter promotes health. Which means cartoons trump documentaries, people. Pushing the “try me” button on toys in the stores and giggling lightens the stress hormones in your body. (Even if you get strange looks from the “adults” around you) And what sounds better to you? Creating a work space with your favorite characters or making sure you adhere to feng shui? As someone with cartoon, comic characters, and cast photos on her walls, toys and stuffed animals on her desk and shelves, and stickers on the computer and monitor, I can tell you which fosters the better work environment. (Especially since I’ve lived in a rigid work environment in the past)

Does that mean I stop learning? Of course not. Hell, my job requires daily research. I have non-fiction books on the middle shelf over my desk, and I pick up a few new ones every year. I watch the occasional documentary if the topic catches my interest (and I don’t consider it absolute bilk; Tiger King falls into that category. I never watched more than 10 seconds of the trailer). I expand my mind between Marvel movies and cartoons, but it’s on MY terms – not because I feel it’s expected due to my age.

And my body? Yeah, it feels twice my physical age. I’m down four organs already. Writing my surgical history ALWAYS overflows the lines they give you. My body is crisscrossed with scars. I take handfuls of medications twice a day. And my collection of specialists is coming along nicely; I’m only missing a few before I think I’ll have seen every single one.

But people mis-guess my age.

It’s all a crazy number game. And you have ALL the control – over YOU. So why in the world would you ever choose to act your age?

Author: Andria Kennedy

I speak the thoughts rattling around in my brain, sharing topics I think other people want and should hear (or are afraid to talk about themselves). I bring my personality and quirky state of mind to everything I write; serious topics shouldn't be devoid of humor. That includes my blog and freelance work (part of my charm). I've been writing for as long as I can remember. It's a source of solace and enjoyment for me. I'm lucky enough to call what I love my career - so it's NOT work! I live in Virginia with the Minions (four cats and a Greyhound) and my wonderful husband, who ensures I stay fed - no cereal for dinner - and as close to sane as I can get.

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