Aging Fantastically

The Awakening

I will never forget the morning I first realized that I was aging… and not so ​fantastically. There was nothing particularly unusual about the day. I had ​gotten out of bed at 5:30 AM, gone through a stretch, scratch, and frown ​routine, made a mental note that my shoulder was stiff again, and then noted ​that my feet hurt when I walked across the floor. Not new occurrences, but ​nagging, in that I was beginning to accept the aches and pains

as part of my awakening routine, part of my life.


What was jarring was that I was beginning to mirror my grandmother. I could ​remember her complaining about body aches, while reaching for the rubbing ​alcohol or Bengay. I remember thinking, “Why does she have to move that ​way, sit with her legs gapping, and have me thread the needle when she wants ​to darn clothes.”


This memory of my grandmother was, if not earth shattering, certainly eye-​opening. Especially, when I applied these pictures to what I felt and saw in ​my own life. However, more than the physical limitations, I realized that I ​was stagnant in other areas of my life.

Somewhere, along the way, I got lost. So on that gray, achy morning, when I looked in the bathroom mirror, I felt like the Rip Van Winkle character that peered in wonder at his image after twenty-five years of slumber.

I had no financial package to speak of, no retirement ​other than social security, and you know what that ​means in today’s world. Worse, I had no concrete plans ​for long-term survival. In fact, as I began a tally sheet ​of personal assets, financial and otherwise, my future ​forecast was grim to say the least. First off, I was not fit ​– mentally or physically. I had become cumbrous and ​dated. Not only did my wardrobe reflect a potpourri of ​styles, some clothes and shoes dated back to the ​seventies, but my make-up, hair and accessories ​screamed “yesterday, passé, buried, gone.”


I had spent thirty years raising three sons, most of the ​time alone. In this family, I was a star-athlete. To ​quote my granny, “I was the butcher, baker, and ​candlestick maker.” On any given day, I could wear five ​different hats. I was the cook, maid, caretaker, ​breadwinner, coach, disciplinarian, nurse, confidant, ​best friend, worst nightmare, tutor, policewoman and ​above all, Mother.


Somewhere, along the way, I got lost. So on that gray, ​achy morning, when I looked in the bathroom mirror, I ​felt like the Rip Van Winkle character that peered in ​wonder at his image after twenty-five years of slumber.

I recognized the woman in the mirror, but it was not the ​image I wanted to see. This woman was in bad need of a ​tune-up. But, unlike my car, there was no neighborhood ​Jiffy Lube, or Tune-Up Master that I could pull into for ​“instant” oil or filter change. Today, I can look in the ​mirror and celebrate the image. I have changed, and the ​overhaul was not instantaneous. Rather it required ​physical and psychological repairs that not only ​renewed and revitalized my life, but gave me a new ​purpose and resolve. My health is improved, my ​spirituality is enriched, my sexuality is enhanced, my ​professional skill-sets are bolstered, and my finances ​upgraded. I am renewed, and it is an open secret.


Renewal is a set of protocols that can be shared, and it ​is a strategy that is duplicable. I found that there were ​two primary and indispensable ingredients to ​reconstructing one’s life -- commitment and self-love. ​They were the glue that fused everything together, and ​they were the ingredients that launched my new ​beginnings.


Join me, and I can promise that you will begin a ​phenomenal journey toward Aging Fantastically.