Yesterday, while on my walk, I met up with a senior neighbor-lady-friend, walking her pooch. That woman is so bright, so articulate, so impressive—even the decade of her age is impossible to guess. She’s made it through thick and thin! I thought. A perfect candidate for a “turning point” post! When I suggested it, she tried to hurry away. “The only one I tell my turning point stories to is my little dog,” she said. “I’ve made so many mistakes in my life, it’s embarrassing!” With that, she described one trauma after another—all “her own fault.” “But look at you today,” I insisted. “You’ve made it! How?” She looked at me, her eyes wide. “I did make it, didn’t I? I’ll have to give that some thought.”
At our ages, it’s easy to focus on regrets. The turning point stories I want for Bright Ideas are the moments we jumped those hurdles and kept going. I’ll bet there are a bunch of little dogs out there who would love to hear those stories, too! Email me today. I’m waiting for your story.
Thank you, Sheila, for your sensitivity, creativity and flexibility to include anonymous interviews.
Thirty-two years ago, on January 30, I had finished a day of snow skiing in Southern California. I was 37. On a two lane road, the van I was riding in fishtailed, head on, into oncoming car. There was a mountain on one side and a cliff on the other. We rolled toward the cliff. I remember counting “1” in my head, wondering how many times we would roll. But we stopped. I didn’t know it but I had been ejected from the van and it had landed on top of me. Only my head and arms were free. The driver, and I don’t know who else, pushed it off me. What I didn’t know was that my head was split open, my left hand nearly cut off, my left femur was sticking out underneath me, most ribs were broken and worst of all my spine was injured. I was helicoptered into Loma Linda Hospital in San Bernardino county. The surgeons who put me back together called me their “miracle patient.” I have been in chronic pain every day since.
Now I am 68. After surviving that, I survived depression, incapacitating anxiety, and post-traumatic syndrome. A twelve-step program helped and therapy. My angels have been with me. And they have been busy. There have been times when I didn’t want to live. But live I have done. At 42 I became a therapist, wrote two books and survived the disappointment of not being married or having children. I’m happiest to say I have remained kind. And thoughtful.
You may know me as the person who left painted lady-but rocks somewhere on your yard!
Wow! Your story really is a miracle. Thanks for sharing it. Totally inspiring.
What a great idea, Sheila! Truly allowing a space for women to share in anonymity. I am in a 12 step program and learned there that when I sat silently in a meeting just listening I learned a lot but did not build relationships with others. When I finally shared some really hard times/mistakes/regrets in my life, other people in the group would approach me, thank me for my courage to share and we began to trust each other with our concerns.
Bev, thanks for your honesty! Growing older( and wiser) is an incredible adjustment that we are not taught about!
Your reminder to remember what we still have is short and sweet and easy to practice. Wendy
What a lovely invitation to let go of the past regrets and embrace the present. Even with all the inconveniences and discomfort of aging, there is still joy. In spite of the past ,we are all survivors and thrivers. Here’s to LIFE and friends!
I don’t think there are many of us who do not have regrets in our lives. But I love that we have made it through. I love that we have a God who says: Yepper, you made a lot of mistakes and guess what, I still love you.
Hey girls, we have done it and we can keep on going.
Pat
Shelia,
I’m having an ongoing turning point dealing with the reality of aging. The reality first set in with several teeth getting resorption at 65. Next was the compression fracture in my spine, leaking, and a pesky thinning disk that kept me up at night…add sleep deprivation to the list. By 72 some odd walking and hip bursitis, cataract surgery, Now 75. Lately new worries about a gradual weight gain and of all things the bills, possible problems over property lines which could require an attorney, and of course the antiquated septic that living in this house depends on. Here comes the turning point: The other day I read that aging well is thinking about what you still have…not what you’ve lost, and I realized that if I enjoyed complaining and worrying, I’d be in joyful bliss. I still have my senses and my sense of humor. I have been blessed with life, and a body that sings, plays the piano, gardens, cares for others and can still drive…and I have the intelligence to worry a bit too. All this worry, might be buffering and preparing for future problems, but has to be kept in check or it becomes a monster in the dark. For me, the biggest.source of the worry comes from wanting to hold onto the past and a fear of loosing what I still have today.No one knows the future, but we can assume that it won’t be bright unless we let the sunshine in. I loved your friends story. It inspired me to respond. One excellent worrier learning to let go. It ain’t easy.
Bev