I Rolled My Eyes So Hard I Saw My Brain

 I just rolled my eyes so hard I saw my brain.

At least I think it was my brain. It could've been one of those random floaters. Once you hit a certain age, it's hard to tell what's a medical condition and what's just Tuesday.

Honestly, eye-rolling isn't what it used to be. There was a time when you could roll your eyes at somebody and move on with your day. Now it's a full-body event.

First, my eyes roll. Then my neck pops. My shoulder makes a sound like somebody stepped on a bag of potato chips. Somehow my knee gets involved even though it had absolutely nothing to do with the situation. And afterward, I have to sit there for a minute and make sure everything went back where it belongs.

Getting older is wild. We don't just react anymore... we recover.

I can't even sigh dramatically without wondering if I pulled something. And don't get me started on sneezing. At our age, a sneeze is less of a reflex and more of a gamble. Will I survive? Will I throw my back out? Will I accidentally pee a little? Nobody knows.

It's like spinning the Wheel of Fortune, except the prizes are muscle relaxers, heating pads, and an appointment with the chiropractor.

The funny thing is, I don't even roll my eyes over big things anymore. Someone says, "Have you tried turning it off and back on?" Eye roll. The grocery store rearranges everything for absolutely no reason? Eye roll. Someone announces they're leaving Facebook for the third time this month? Eye roll... even though we all know they'll be back by Thursday.

Somewhere along the way, my body stopped saying, "That was dramatic."

Now it says, "That'll be three days to recover."

So yes... I rolled my eyes so hard I saw my brain.

The good news is I finally know where it is.

The bad news is I think I strained my neck finding it. 😂

Play The Silly Games!

I hear people talk all the time about how important it is for kids to have grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and extended family in their lives. And I agree. But here’s the thing nobody seems to mention. You actually have to build the relationship. You can have 47 relatives sitting in the same room at Christmas and that doesn’t mean those kids have a relationship with any of them. And really, why have a family if you don’t want to be part of it?

Being Grandma doesn’t automatically create a bond. Neither does being Grandpa, Aunt Whoever or Uncle So-and-So. That’s your title. The relationship comes from what you actually DO with them. Play the silly games. Go watch them play ball, dance, sing, act or whatever they’re into this month. Listen to the 15-minute story that you still don’t understand. Ask them questions. Remember what they told you last time. Laugh with them. Take them somewhere. Teach them something. Let them help you cook. Sit down and actually TALK to them. And for heaven’s sake, put the phone down once in a while.

Kids notice who pays attention to them. They know who lights up when they walk through the door and who barely looks up. They know who makes them feel interesting, funny, important and loved. You can spend years sitting in the same room with a child and still be practically a stranger to them.

Then someday you can’t wonder why they don’t call, don’t visit or don’t seem particularly close to you. You can’t ignore their little world for years and then suddenly expect to be an important part of their big one. DNA gave you the connection. You still have to do the work to build the relationship. Family isn’t something you just have. It’s something you participate in.

About Raven Carter

Apparently, I Need to Introduce Myself to Google 

According to Google, there are other Raven Carters who are much better at being Raven Carter on the internet than I am.

Who knew?

So I figured I’d give Google a little help without giving the internet enough information to show up at my front door. I’m Raven Carter. The Oklahoma one.

I’ve lived a lot of different lives in this one lifetime. I’ve spent decades working with children, owned a business, directed plays, raised a family, survived more than a few “what the hell am I going to do now?” moments, and recently entered this strange little chapter called retirement.

I’m creative. I’m stubborn. I’m independent. I’m sentimental when nobody’s looking, sarcastic when everybody is, and I’ve never been particularly good at being told what to do.

I’ve directed actors on a stage and teachers in classrooms. I’ve dealt with children throwing fits and adults throwing bigger ones. Honestly, there’s not as much difference between those two professions as you’d think.

I’ve reinvented myself more than once.

I’ve been a daughter, wife, mother, grandmother, business owner, director, boss, friend, writer, troublemaker and probably a pain in somebody’s ass at least a few times.

And now I’m a blogger.

I write because I have stories. Some are funny. Some hurt. Some make absolutely no sense until you’re old enough to look backward and realize they were building the person you eventually became.

I’m not famous. I’m not trying to be. But I’ve lived a life worth remembering. So Google, if you’re listening: I’m Raven Carter. The Oklahoma one. That’s really all the internet needs to know. The rest of the story? My blog is at your finger tips. 

Then Do Something About It

We all complain. I complain. Sometimes complaining is therapeutic. You get it out, say a few bad words, tell your friend the whole ridiculous story, and feel better.

But eventually?

You have to do something.

You hate your job.

Every day.

You’ve hated it since 2019.

But you haven’t applied anywhere.

You’re always broke, but haven’t changed one thing you’re spending money on.

You’re exhausted, but you’re scrolling TikTok at 1:30 in the morning.

You’re unhappy in your relationship, but won’t have the uncomfortable conversation.

You complain nobody helps you, but every time somebody offers a solution, you have seventeen reasons why it won’t work.

At some point, I don’t know what we’re doing here. 😂

And yes, some situations are genuinely hard. Not every problem has an easy solution. Sometimes all the choices suck.

But doing nothing is still a choice.

You don’t have to change your entire life by Tuesday. Take one step. Make the phone call. Fill out the application. Cancel something you can’t afford. Have the conversation. Ask the question. Make the appointment.

Do something different.

Because if you’ve been complaining about the exact same problem for three years while refusing to change anything, maybe you’re not looking for a solution anymore.

Maybe complaining has become your hobby.

Change it.

Accept it.

Learn to live with it.

Or at least stop giving the rest of us weekly updates. 😂

Because eventually “I don’t know what to do” becomes “I know what I could do. I just don’t want to do it.”

And sometimes that’s the actual problem.

Somebody needed to say it.

Just Tell Me I’m Fine Again

I’ve recently discovered something about myself: I don’t necessarily need new information.

I need the same information repeated until my nervous system agrees with it.

You can tell me, “That’s normal.”

Great.

Five minutes later: “Okay, but is it still normal?”

Ten minutes later: “Can you check again?”

And apparently, if I own a device capable of measuring something, I will measure the absolute shit out of it.

My Apple Watch has learned this the hard way.

Heart rate 89? Wonderful.

Heart rate 101? Excuse me, what the hell is happening?

Heart rate 116 because I stood up and walked across the room? Well, obviously this is the end.

Back to 99?

“Okay, but check it again.”

😂

I don’t think I’m necessarily a hypochondriac. I think I’m more of a professional reassurance seeker. There’s a difference. I don’t always believe something terrible is wrong. I just need someone to confirm approximately 14 times that something terrible is not wrong.

And the funny thing is, once I’m reassured, I’m perfectly reasonable.

“Okay! That makes sense.”

Then my body does one slightly different thing.

“Wait. What was THAT?”

Maybe some of it comes with getting older. When you’re young, your body can make a weird noise and you think, Huh.

At 61, your body makes a weird noise and suddenly you’re conducting a full investigation.

Was that there yesterday?

Is that new?

What medications have I taken?

Did I drink enough water?

Is this hormones?

Am I out of shape?

Could it be the prednisone?

CHECK MY HEART AGAIN.

I know reassurance can become a rabbit hole, and I’m working on trusting my body a little more instead of monitoring every little thing it does.

But sometimes I don’t need someone to tell me I’m being ridiculous.

I just need someone to calmly say, “You’re okay. What you’re feeling makes sense.”

And apparently, occasionally, I need them to say it again.

And again.

And one more time just to be safe.

Then I’ll relax.

Probably.

But first…

Can you check it again? 😂

Labels: Aging, Anxiety, Health, Humor, Overthinking, Reassurance, Getting Older, Apple Watch, Life After 60, Insignificant Thoughts