Forgive me dear reader, it's late and I'm tired. I confess I seriously considered skipping Confession today but that seemed so lazy and I did not want the guilt of feeling lazy. I've been very detail orientated today at work and I'm more mentally drained than physically tired. But enough of that,,, it's confession time, let's get started.
A really strange thing occurred today at the office. I confess aging has been a fear of mine since - well since I turned at least 25. Yes, I said twenty-five. I admit that the alternative to aging (death) is not real attractive either. But I digress-
This afternoon I paused as I was working in a project at my computer and looked down at my hand. I think I recall scratching the of my left hand with my right. I noticed in the desk lighting that the back of my hand seemed more tanned than I would have thought. upon closer look it appeared to me that my skin seemed rougher... more wrinkled then I had ever noticed. This freaked me out!
I know this all sounds so silly, but somehow what I saw of my hands said more to me then looking in a mirror in the morning, Then looking at any of my recent pictures. I confess I freaked out!
Even as I write this tonight and look at my hands (admittedly in different lighting) they don't seem to freak me out like they did this afternoon. I suppose this was simply a case of heightened anxiety and I confess that it makes me feel really silly.
Why can't I look at my overall view of aging as just something silly too?
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A really strange thing occurred today at the office. I confess aging has been a fear of mine since - well since I turned at least 25. Yes, I said twenty-five. I admit that the alternative to aging (death) is not real attractive either. But I digress-
This afternoon I paused as I was working in a project at my computer and looked down at my hand. I think I recall scratching the of my left hand with my right. I noticed in the desk lighting that the back of my hand seemed more tanned than I would have thought. upon closer look it appeared to me that my skin seemed rougher... more wrinkled then I had ever noticed. This freaked me out!
I know this all sounds so silly, but somehow what I saw of my hands said more to me then looking in a mirror in the morning, Then looking at any of my recent pictures. I confess I freaked out!
Even as I write this tonight and look at my hands (admittedly in different lighting) they don't seem to freak me out like they did this afternoon. I suppose this was simply a case of heightened anxiety and I confess that it makes me feel really silly.
Why can't I look at my overall view of aging as just something silly too?
Share
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