Getting Old is a Bitch

I'm observing the poor dog that we're doggy-sitting at the moment. He's 16  years old, and currently has vertigo - that crazy syndrome where you lose your internal sense of gravity. It's like you've walked off that twirly ride at the fair and the world won't stop spinning.

Taking care of the ol' man/dog is forcing me to reflect more on my own ageing. I know, I know, I'm only 31 and in the eyes of many of my friends, "a spring chicken." But 31 is still 31, and time marches on incessantly while I scramble to pick up toys, clean paint off the wall, and stare blurry-eyed at my credit card bill.

What was your favourite age? Mine was 14 - it was a time where I had past the awkward pre-teen years, but still hadn't reached the annoying "I know everything" young adult years. I was still innocent in the ways of the world, had my future stretched out before me, and finally felt like I could just be me.

I am now me, but a whole different me, with a whole lot of expectations. And instead of seeing life stretched out before me, I see a lot of roadblocks and potholes.

We're supposed to get wiser as we age; perhaps gain more insight and calm down a little bit.

But with mortgages, babies, toddlers, jobs, and god knows what else, don't we just become more insane as the years go by? Strip away all these things we have collected and restrictions we have imposed on ourselves, and what are we left with?

A very existential conversation, I know, but an imperative one.

Because, really, I think I'd rather be the calm, wise gal than the cranky bitch who walks through the world as though she just stepped off the twirly ride. Any thoughts from the wise of the world on how to get there?