The Only Thing Mid-Century Around Here is Me

Well, maybe not the only thing....

Photo by Deva Williamson

Today is my birthday. Oddly, this is something I genuinely look forward to. It feels like an accomplishment, and it is, because it’s more of a challenge to stay alive than you might think.

There are a lot of things out there trying to kill you, bacon being one of them. Bacon is definitely trying to kill you. Also simple carbohydrates, all types of sugar, e-cigarettes, real cigarettes, too much wine, not enough wine, the wrong kind of coffee, flame-retardant mattresses, cash register receipts, unwashed kombucha, and bleached chicken.

So, yeah, like I said, this staying alive thing is serious business.

I’ve been looking forward to my birthday for other reasons, too. The last four birthdays have been awful. Not “Putin’s invading our country” awful, but still disappointing. Two were Covid birthdays, the first under complete lockdown. All were rainy. There was that oh-so-memorable birthday where I’d just finished wrecking myself writing four books in one year. When my royalty check arrived, I literally cried. Bangladeshi garment workers make more money than 99% of novelists. I’m not joking. That check was so shockingly low, I called my agent, convinced they’d made a mistake. John and I were digging loose change out of the couch just to buy a coffee.

But today, April 4, 2022, there will be no rain. Sure, we’re still in the middle of a pandemic, the world’s on fire, the Democrats are going to get shellacked in the midterms, we’re probably looking at Desantis in the White House for the next election, but I’m hanging on to my One Perfect Birthday if I have to kill everybody to do it. I’m getting a toe tattoo, by the way. In blue. To celebrate the very fact of having survived.¹

To commemorate, I’d like to briefly share some wisdom with you, especially those of you who might be dreading the prospect of getting older.

I love getting older.

This shit rocks.

I’m not joking.

At this age, I know exactly who and what I am. I know my worth. I no longer suffer fools. I know how to take a punch. God knows, life has landed a few. I’m not afraid to say no. I don’t need you to like me. I finally figured out why I’m here. I am 100% comfortable in my own skin. I’m not going to dance for you, and I don’t want you dancing for me. I walk in power, real power, not the cheap delusions I convinced myself were real when I was younger. I know what time it is.

None of this was possible before I’d been raw-dogged so many times by my own stupidity and social programming that I finally started questioning the things I held to be most true. I spent a good portion of my youth being “hot,” which I wrote about here. I learned all too well that a woman’s value was determined by how many men found her attractive. The effort I expended remaining professionally skinny, the hours I spent in the gym, or getting my hair and makeup done for photo shoots, the boyfriends I held onto because I had no idea what to expect from a healthy relationship, all were part of the hard lessons I had to learn.

Rides, taken for. There were plenty of those. But I congratulated myself on never letting myself be victimized—without recognizing, of course, that I’d already been victimized by the one relentless, all-consuming message directed toward women: unless you’re hot, you don’t matter. The desire of men is the only prize worth having.

As a woman, and especially as a woman in Texas, I wasn’t afforded any other path to personal power. I was trapped inside a snow globe. I existed only within the male gaze. And the more the world tried to shame me for the way I looked or the way I dressed, the harder I pushed back. That, in retrospect, was the only righteous fight. But it was a hard road, and I walked it alone.

Most of my life has been spent in the wrong places, places I didn’t belong. That really only changed when I came to Italy. Nearly eight years it’s been. In those eight years, I have learned to make peace—not with the world, which is wildly problematic—but with my place in it. That is no small thing.

Photo by Angele Kamp

And it didn’t happen by coincidence. It happened because of the wisdom that comes with age. Yes, I realize not everyone comes into their wisdom as they get older. But I have been relentless in my pursuit of … well, if not truth (too often subjective and variable), then understanding.

As you get older, it slowly dawns on you that your real beauty isn’t only what you look like. It’s your vibrational force field, your energy, how heard (and unjudged) you make other people feel. It’s not about you. In fact, it never was—although to be fair, I’m not sure it’s biologically possible for the young to embrace this. Narcissism and youth go hand-in-hand.

I don’t look anything like I did when I was twenty-five. And when I was twenty-five, I thought I was fat. That’s the kind of devastating effect society has upon women, especially young women who are so consumed with self-loathing and shame, it doesn’t occur to them to question the manure they’ve been fed.

No matter how beautiful you are, there will always be people telling you otherwise. Know that it has nothing to do with you. If you only knew how hideous I felt when this photo was taken.

So, I’d like to share some truths that more women need to hear. Maybe they don’t make sense to you yet. But they will.

1. If some man doesn’t love you, that’s on him. Not all men are capable of seeing women as people or loving them accordingly. Their loss. Don’t internalize it.

2. Whoever you are, whatever you are, double down on that. Be the strongest flavor of yourself you can possibly be and really embrace it, even if there’s opposition.

3. Don’t waste time making yourself “likable.” You will never succeed, and if someone doesn’t like you, again, that’s on them. It doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you.

4. Don’t wait for anybody’s permission to create a life for yourself. The richer, fuller, and more fascinating your life, and the more genuinely you inhabit that life, the more (and better quality) people you will attract.

5. Love often happens when you’re busy doing something else.

6. There’s so much more to you than how you look. Don’t let yourself become one of those tragic women who simply replicates the lessons of the marketplace. Develop your talent. Develop your brain. Develop you.

7. Don’t waste time sweating the opinions of people you don’t respect and can’t stand, even if they’re in positions of authority. Remember: we don’t see the world as the world is; we see it as we are, and that goes double for any so-called “experts.”

8. Clean up your side of the aisle. If you know you have relationship-killing issues, do the hard work of fixing them. Otherwise, you will attract people just as dysfunctional as you are.

9. Learn to sift through the images of “perfect women” that you are assaulted with on a daily basis, from Instagram to television to advertising. Know that these images are manipulated, a lie meant to make you feel awful about yourself so you will buy whatever product will fix what’s “wrong” with you.

10. Sometimes men will say some very stupid things about you, specifically, or about women in general. Ignore them. One man does not speak for all men. And there are plenty of good men out there, but you have to be in the right head space to identify them.

Happy birthday to you from Cappuccino, even if it maybe isn’t technically your birthday. You’ve earned the right to exist, just by making it this far.

All you have is this one beautiful life. Don’t waste it.

Inhabit your space.

What are your thoughts? I always read them, and I always appreciate hearing from you. Leave your comments below.

Copyright © 2022 Stacey Eskelin

1. Unfortunately, the Curse of Stacey’s Birthday continues. We actually had to cancel all our plans because of my fun new gluten allergy. I spent all last night and this morning in significant pain (anyone with a food allergy will attest to this). We have no idea where I came into contact with the gluten, but the condition itself is likely an age-related condition, so YAY to getting older in that regard. The minute you finally get your head together, your body starts falling apart.