Wrinkles and the Power of Perspective
Premature aging ain’t got nothing on my nauseatingly optimistic outlook
Photo by nine koepfer on Unsplash
I have more wrinkles than a lot of my friends my age.
Sometimes it bothers me.
“Ugh,” I’ll groan into the mirror, poking at my skin and adjusting it to see what I’d look like without the etched-in lines.
Or sometimes I’ll do things like get bangs after a friend shows me some photos and I have to face the reality of what my forehead looks like.
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In general, however, I don’t get too worked up about it. It is what it is. I’ve lived how I’ve lived. I’ve had more sunburns than I should have. I didn’t tend to my skin through my teens or twenties. I’ve been ambivalent about sunscreen. I sleep with my face smushed up against a pillow. I always have, except for those few weird years in my youth where I was afraid I would get spanked in my sleep and glued my back and butt to the bed. You know, as I thought about the things all kids think about before going to bed…
It feels like a good place to note that I’ve probably stored more stress and tension in my tissues than a lot of my peers. I was a walking ball of stress before I became an alcoholic. Then I consumed enough alcohol to wipe out the angry and anxious parts of my brain, before getting sober and working on rewiring it. Probably not the best way to approach rewiring, but I was in survival mode at the time. And it all worked out.
Alas, I’ve gone on a tangent.
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The thing with my more-wrinkled-than-my-friends skin is that it helps me remember something that I cherish: perspective matters.
See, the wrinkles that are bothering me most at the moment are the crevices on the side of my mouth. The ones that are wildly exaggerated when I wake up, which leads me to believe they’re from my side sleeping habits.
However, I can’t begrudge this habit. Because sleeping on my side has likely saved my life.
Before I got sober, I was a daily blackout drinker. I was a non-functional alcoholic who drank until she collapsed. Every. Single. Day.
If I had been a back sleeper, chances are high that I would have vomited in my mouth at some point or another, aspirated and died.
If we’re into being honest, I’ll own that I would have been fine with that at the time. I drank the way I did because I was miserable. Dying young would have been great...especially if I didn’t have to do it myself.
However, these days, I’m thrilled with being alive. I like who I am. I love my life. I adore my partner. I’m excited that we just moved to China. I’m eager to start a family and raise some youngins.
My life's a treat and I cherish it.
So I’m glad that I made it through the years where it wasn’t. That I got the chance to turn everything around.
And, if the cost of not dying by puking in my mouth while I was passed out is a few more wrinkles than I’d like, I’ll take it.
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That’s the power of perspective. Of owning your story. Of looking for the bright side. Of crafting a narrative you’re happy with. And I try to do it with every aspect of my life...even annoying AF wrinkles.
Maybe that makes me delusional-ish. Or nauseatingly optimistic. Or perhaps it makes me lucky. Because I remember the years when I wasn’t able to look on the bright side. I’m currently watching as someone I love struggles with their inner pessimist. And I see how awful it is.
So me and my wrinkles will be over here sleeping on our side and feeling grateful. Then, next time we’re home, we’ll go to Nashville and celebrate being lucky enough to have a sister-in-law who can get rid of all these lines.
Thanks Universe.
Suggested Reading
Want to be more optimistic? Martin Seligman, the father of positive psychology, asserts that optimism is a skill we can all develop. Check out any of his books to learn more, including Learned Optimism and Flourish.
