Quality over Quantity

She should have learned by now, not to make declarations of grand plans, and over-zealous projects, that she will never be able to complete.

She has failed at almost every aspect of her #50til50 project. She has not taken a self-portrait every day. She has not tried on her new jeans every day. She has not written a journal entry every day. The only two aspects that cling on for life yet are: eating healthy, avoiding most of her pitfall foods, and she is still getting at least 15,000 steps per day on her Apple Watch.

As she reflects on these failures, and few small triumphs, she knows she should stop making declarations.  Yet she keeps on, because the light at the end of the tunnel is this; she always learns things, important things from starting these plans and projects.

Sometimes her ideas are too grand. She doesn't have the right props, she doesn't have enough time, or she doesn't know the right place. When this happens, she loses all desire and her ideas go out the window.

Maybe her 50's will the decade when she learns to slow down, treasure quality or quantity, give herself permission to start projects and not finish them, growing from each lesson she learns from them, completing the ones that matter most.

Culture

She grew up a child of parents who were always scraping by. One year, her mom had to cash in the savings bonds that her grandpa had given her every birthday, just so she would have some new school clothes that fall. There was never extra money for things like art lessons, trips to the museum, or to go see the newest Disney movie. The only thing her mom did seem to find money for was organ lessons. She hated the organ.

Maybe if she had had the opportunity to explore some of the interests she actually had, she would have figured out she loved photography much earlier than her late 30's. She might have even have gone to college for it, instead of getting married at eighteen. How different her life might have been if her parents had only invested in it a little.

Now a woman of means, she invests in herself. Photography classes, a yearly membership to the botanic and sculpture garden, and her newest acquisition a yearly membership to the art museum. She can't change her past but she can change her future.

Weekends

Weekends are the bane of her existence. She loves her family, but they make too much noise for her voice to be heard.

Weekends are filled with shopping, laughter, lunches, faith, and some times fancy parties. These things usually bring more joy to others than they do to her. She would rather curl up on the couch with a good book, or be out strolling with her camera.

She must learn to balance 'creative time' with social time, even if it kills her.

Trees

She stands on the edge of the ravine of this new park she chose to discover today, watching the trees.

She wasn't sure she wanted to venture on new trails, not when the old familiar is so comforting. But the park turned out to be better than she ever could have expected, she's glad she took the risk. Marshy woodlands flooded with spring wildflowers. Marsh marigolds alongside the gentle flowing creek, looking like hundreds of bright yellow bridesmaid bouquets stuck into the earth, waiting for the bridesmaids and the wedding to begin.

Now she stands on the platform looking at the deep ravine, listening to the storm force winds blow in the canopy of leafless trees overhead. She is amazed at the resilience of the trees, how they bend and sway, limbs clunking and cracking. It would be so easy, so understandable to just topple over in these strong winds and be done with it, no more storms to withstand. But no that is not the life they chose, they chose to stand strong, be flexible. The winds will end, and the sunshine will return.

Everyday

Everyday, until she turns 50, she is going to try these jeans on and photograph herself. By the time she has actually reached the day, it will be too damn hot to wear them anyway, but it is about the hurdles and the journey, not necessarily the gold medal at the end.  Right now they are slightly snug, particularly in the thighs. She isn't sure that will get better, as she reintroduced herself to the weights at the gym today, working especially hard to rebuild strength in her legs.

Still, everyday she will stand in front of this mirror, hoping the piano bench she is standing on holds up for the whole fifty days, and take a photograph of herself in these jeans. She is a visual person, so the camera as the tool for transformation suits her well. She also always needs a project, angles and light to figure out, everyday a chance to get it just a little bit better.

Red

She is trying to focus the camera without her glasses on, she knows it isn't going well. But she already feels like an undressed mannequin in a store window; the camera in her lap, all eyes on her, what is she doing, crazy lady...adding her glasses askew to this sculpted, flaming mess just to gain focus will not diminish the feeling.

Lately, she has noticed more and more sprouts of silver springing from the untreated part in her hair. There use to be only a few lone strands, now it seems those loners don't want to be lonely any more and have decided to gather a party.

She thought about leaving the artificial redhead behind, letting the silver sprigs win, slowly returning to the natural too dark state that is her birth color. But then she envisioned her mother's face over her face in the mirror, and knew she could never go back, she will do anything to not be or look like her mother.

Climbing

Today is the day, fifty days until she is fifty.

Her plan was to sign up for Weigh Watchers today, that would give her fifty days to lose the ten pounds she needs to lose. But after searching Pinterest for inspiring Weight Watchers recipes, she realized none of them motivated her to enjoy cooking. She wants to take pleasure in making food not just calculate points. She has decided to return to her Whole 30 and Paleo ways, healthy recipes that are fun to make, a joy to the tastebuds and a feast for the eyes. Instead of spending money on monthly fees, and time on humbling weight-ins, she will invest in some cooking classes where she can learn new recipes and techniques, and maybe make some new friends in the process.

She is going to up her exercise goals, 15,000 steps everyday, and at least one day a week at the gym lifting weights. She is going to take the stairs, climbing everyday towards her goals, which are bigger than just ten pounds.

Frumpy to Fantastic

It was scary pushing that publish button yesterday. It is one thing to have all these thoughts and ideas in her head, but it is another to share them with the world, not that she is expecting others to gather here. She is the one who needs this space, a place to be accountable to what she wants to do. If someone stumbles upon this journal and it helps them in some small way, who is she to stand in the way.

Her forties have been, for the most part, fabulous. She finally found her calling - photography. She has gained bucket loads of confidence through the wielding of her camera. But as she is in the final days of her forties, she realizes she has gone from fabulous to frumpy. Rarely does she put makeup on, or even real pants. An early morning trip to the grocery store in yoga pants, bedhead hair, and a plain face is just fine, or is it?

She wants her fifties to be fresh and alive, full of wonder and excitement. She wants to change from frumpy to fantastic. So with fifty-one days to go until she is fifty, she is going to start putting on make-up every morning before she leaves the house, she will wear real pants whenever she goes out, yoga pants are still fine for around the house, she will act like she matters until she believes it, even if it takes the whole fifty-one days.

The Voice

She didn't bring an extra notebook on this vacation, which is unusual for a vacation where she stays in the same place for the whole week. Maybe she didn't bring one because she didn't have faith that her writing voice would ever return, it has been gone for such a long time. But she should know by now, when she least expects it, is when the voice returns.

So instead of writing in a notebook, she is going to have to type directly to this page, and maybe that's okay. It seems to be how it has been in this last year: typing, editing, typing, editing, and reading and rereading for what seems a hundred times. Maybe this is her new process and she just needs to embrace it. Maybe though, she needs to let some of that perfectionism go, and just let the words flow. Maybe this is where she needs to find the truest, rawest, uncensored voice.

She knows she wants the voice so she can become a better writer, but she needs the voice to find and express emotion, she needs the voice to find herself.

She can't let the voice slip away again.