Grief and Aging

In response to a picture I posted, someone mentioned that I look much older now than I did say a year ago. They weren't being mean, we were discussing age and appearance and so she shared this thought with me. She wondered if it was my grief adding lines to my face. I don't know. But it made me think.

I stopped looking in the mirror months ago. My face just stopped mattering. I realized today that I brush my teeth, wash my face, and run a brush through my hair, without ever looking at myself. The mirror above the sink is gone, and has been replaced by nothingness.


I do this with my body too. I get dressed. I get undressed. I shower and rub soap on my self. I do all this, without really seeing myself. Without much thought of what I look like.

But it is more than that. It is more than not looking at myself. It is an almost blatant disregard for myself. I've forgotten I'm here. Or I know I am here, and I just don't care. Or I know I'm here, and I wish I that I wasn't.

I'm ignoring me. And I'm abusing me. And I'm killing me. And I can't think of one good for ME thing I've done in a really long time.

I keep trying. I keep saying I'm getting better. Maybe I am.

But I'm not. I'm just avoiding the problem.

Me.

My grief, my sadness, my depression. My fuckinglifethatisnotwhatiwantittobeanymore.

All the lipstick and haircuts and weight loss in the world aren't going to change a thing.