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Lusty 51

I could lie and tell you “I am so excited to be having this 51st birthday. I welcome this opportunity to express my wisdom, feel my power, and manifest …. (while standing naked on a full moon with various crystals placed deeply in my various orifices)” and more inspirational tossed word salad but I don’t have the energy to even make it up. That’s how hard these last few birthdays have been.

At 45 I had gentle grief, "wow, I am getting closer to 50". Subtle because the grief was a soft sigh. By the time I hit 50, about 1 week before, I literally collapsed on my bed, a dramatic sobbing as if I was Carol Burnett doing a rendition of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. The day hit and I felt my feelings and moved through it. Here I am again, about to loop around again and I realized tonight, for the last few weeks I am in my annual grieving period. I am getting older.

If you watch me on the gram, read these letters, or know me you can tell that there is a bit of pride in my aging too. I don’t mind telling people how old I am, no one seems surprised when I mention my age (which at times makes me want to spit). I’ve let the silver shine through and embraced the benefits of the Brazilian because grey pubes are a step too far for this 50+ person. Even while I grieve old expectations, new limitations, and the constant change that is life. I realize that aging is the one thing we all have in common and for many aging well is a privilege.

Everybody ages, and if they don't they are dead. Aging is the one thing that links us all, facing our mortality together. Everybody goes through a transition, the skin shows the years, and the hair texture, color, and luster change. The pubes grey, and you realize, when you dance to drum and bass with your son, that our jumping is not as bouncy as it was. While I miss certain aspects of youth, I also lust for the years to come. I have age lust. Wikipedia defines lust as:

Lust is a psychological force producing intense desire for something, or circumstance while already having a significant amount of the desired object. Lust can take any form such as the lust for sexuality, money, or power.

Yes, I am grateful for so many things, and yes to whatever other judgy shit you are thinking to counter your own aging grief. Even so, I still have grief to deal with. My lust for youth is also a lust for getting older. A lust for aging strong, flexible, and ever-expanding. So for this week, I grieve whatever needs grieving. I let it move through and out of me to make space for the new.

I look forward to this next season of life. I have plans like upping my hormones, tending to my wax game, meeting others in the world of hot flushes, and keeping my menopause group going. Connecting with my kids through coloring, lots of dancing to drum & base, with a side hustle, Chicago Step, straight-up house (Chicago), and bachata (Papi). Discovering different ways to be present for my family, my clients, and my patients. 51 will be perfectly imperfectly lusty in all the ways.

Thanks for letting me share.

As always, I would love to hear from you. You can contact me via DM @jessica_jolie_np or email me at Feel free to share this with your friends who may be struggling or wondering what you are going through.

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