I am not who you think I am

I’m struggling to find the [b]old woman who started this newsletter

This is one in a series of very personal essays on what getting old is really like, from the blessings to the bullshit. My Personal Essays are for paid subscribers. I’d love to have you join this thoughtful community, to add your Comments and perspective on [b]old age.

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When I wake each morning, I look out at my neighbor’s green grass, as bright as a baseball diamond, and beyond to the gently rippled waters of the Deer Isle Thorofare. In the distance, a handful of islands poke up, their rounded silhouettes of pine and spruce trees, rimmed by granite rock, as crisp as a 3D collage. This is the view from my bedroom—one that I am so grateful for. This is what I’ve called home for the past decade. 

View of the Deer Isle Thorofare, a narrow passageway between Penobscot Bay and Jericho Bay, off of Stonington, Maine.

But there’s more going on in my life right now than this perfect postcard view, so I want to pull the curtain, just for a moment, just to be more honest with you.