Getting Old Blows Goats

I realize I’m not saying anything groundbreaking here, but god damn do I hate what getting older is doing to me.

I’ve been 30 for a few months now; despite the fact that I spent my 20s dreading it, 30 isn’t as horrible as I’d imagined.  It’s not as is being in your 20s is so spectacular anyway, so overall, the big three-oh is pretty okay.  HOWEVER, there are certain concessions we have to make in regards to hitting this age.

Like, fuck me, but I’m tired.  All the god damn time.  Most of my life, I’ve been able to get by on five or six hours a night–did this through most of my teens and my twenties.  I was also capable of sleeping for 12 hours at a time; I was like a camel, really.  I’d store sleep to get me through the all-nighters and such.  Plus, I’ve always been a night owl–up until just a few years ago, I was usually up until 4 or 5 in the morning, and would sleep most of my days away.  It’s a great way to save money, but didn’t do much for me getting out and about.  At one point, I started working two jobs–babysitting during the day and bartending at night, so I forced myself to bed earlier and to get up earlier.  Amazingly, I’ve stuck with it.  However, it’s still usually 1 or 2 in the morning before I fall asleep.   So I’m still getting about five or six hours on average.  But I’m realizing that this just isn’t cutting it.  My body is begging–on its proverbial hands and knees–for more rest.  Do I listen?  Fuck no!  I’m still a kid!  I don’t need sleep!

The amount of caffeine I’m consuming just to function most mornings is obscene, and I don’t know if it’s actually kicking in until at some point in the afternoon, which seems counterproductive.

S0 turning 30 isn’t just about needing to sleep; it’s about letting yourself come to terms with that, too, which I think may be harder than actually needing the sleep.  My mind is still young and its rebelling like hell against what my body is demanding.  Leaving me stuck in the middle of this epic war.

Fuck.

Also, as I get older, I find that I hurt for a lot longer and often for no reason.

Last spring/summer, when I was rehearsing a musical and around the time I was turning 30, I developed what I’ve been calling my old age knee.  My right knee just started to ache all the fucking time.  For no bloody reason.  I’ve never actually injured my knee or fallen on it in any way; it just decided to ache.  It was a bitch trying to walk up and down stairs at work, and to dance during rehearsals.  Fortunately, not long after the show was over, it stopped hurting all the time, but I still get twinges.  Just last Friday, as I was driving home in the evening, I had to slam on my breaks to avoid hitting a deer.  Fortunately, I did manage to avoid it (because that would have been messy as all fucking hell), but my body, naturally, tensed up as I was trying to avoid injury.  Causing my back to seize up and ache the rest of the drive home.  Now, realistically, the pain could have been much worse if I’d actually hit the deer and I’m beyond grateful that I reacted swiftly.  However, it’s now been a week and my back still hurts.  Not constantly and not severely, but it’s still tense and kind of sore.  Ten years ago, this wouldn’t have happened.

Nowadays, I’m afraid to do anything that might possibly cause injury because if it does, then I’m sore for days or weeks.

I’m sure that if I was getting more sleep, I wouldn’t be as sore because my body would have more time to heal itself.  Vicious circle, man.

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~ by raspychick on January 13, 2012.

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