Am I Doing Better?

A couple of friends have told me that they are doing better this year than last year around this time, which led to me wondering if that is true for me, as well. Am I doing better?

Financially, I am doing much, much better. The final divorce settlement has come through and it is still sinking in that I no longer need to be constantly afraid for my financial future. I am fine. This has led to me being able to (a little) let go of anger about the divorce itself, which I did not want and fought for as long as I could (not that this necessarily vmakes me good or bad or says anything about anything, just a fact). This year, I paid down my house so that I no longer am making PMI payments. I also sold my old SUV, after a series of problems with it mechanically, one of which left me stuck in Las Vegas at a race in October of 2024. I purchased a newish car and paid cash for it, which is a nice thing to be able to do. I also sold got paid for my new books, which is nice, and made a LOT of contributions to retirements on my own account.

I got certified as a CDFA, something I’d been toying with doing for a while, though I hadn’t done it because it didn’t necessarily make financial sense. I decided I wanted to do it for the hell of it and maybe I won’t work in that field or maybe I will. I am still writing and still selling books, which is a constant surprise to me.

I had a very difficult year physically. I have had a recurring achilles injury since 2017, but this year it stopped my running almost completely. I did a handful of very short triathlon races and they were very slow and painful and frustrating. Then I had a total hysterectomy in December, which I am still recovering from. I feel very slow and very tired all the time. Also irritable and in pain a lot, which everyone tells me that I should expect and I should REST MORE DAMMIT. Thanks, yeah. That is new information for me. Resting, who knew?

I had some unexpected feelings about getting my uterus taken out, especially at first. I wasn’t expecting it because I have weirdly unemotional feelings about my body in general and about specifically feminine parts of my body as well. But I’d birthed six children in this body and I lost the last one in a stillbirth and apparently some part of me still thought that this was going to be healed by having one more baby. It turned out differently, though I think I’ve healed the loss of that baby at last, at least as much as it is going to heal.

Getting older isn’t much fun. For my forties, I thought that I liked aging because I was getting smarter and more capable all the time. Yeah, well that didn’t last. Weirdly, though, I still wouldn’t trade the wisdom, experience, and patience that I’ve gained for the energy of my younger years. At least, not most days. I don’t love hot flashes or the alternate feeling of being constantly cold. I do love the lack of anxiety I feel generally now about the hope of being a published writer (I am one) and the need to prove myself “important” (I am not, and that is a wonderful, freeing thing). I don’t hate the invisibility of being an older woman, either. Mostly, the worst part of this aging thing is my teeth, and I blame my parents for that, who raised me on well water that had no flouride supplements and also just had bad genetics. I don’t love reading glasses, limping most of the time, forgetfulness (although it has its own perks) or general lack of sharpness. But I am still fighting. I am still here, and I think I’m still doing things that are important on a very small scale. Maybe.