This Body is Bullshit

Ten Years and a Colonoscopy

Let’s see where I left off.

We did the annual pumpkin carving at the Wilsons and it was such a nice day. Aunt Susie made everything cozy and beautiful and delicious — full Hallmark fall spread, because that’s just who she is. She’s also genuinely one of the best cooks I know. Later that night we went to Rusty and Heather’s for another festive evening with them and Ben. I call us the Fab Five whether they like it or not. Another great homemade meal, great company, one of those nights that fills your tank without anyone trying too hard.

And now somehow October is over.

I really do love October — even if I hate saying goodbye to summer. The leaves are gorgeous, Halloween is always a favorite, and I think of my grandma every year since her birthday is the 26th. One of my closest friends shares that birthday too. But now it’s November and life is back to being a lot.

Work is still hammering me. I’m still carrying the mental load of Dad and Kathy. One bright spot though — instead of flying to New Jersey to visit the Mulroys, they’re taking Kathy to Mexico with them. Well deserved for everyone involved. Truly. However. That means I’m back on Dad Duty, and yes, I fully know I become an unhinged hall monitor when I’m responsible for watching him. I already asked her to drive herself to the airport and park there so he wouldn’t have the car while she’s gone. She thinks I’m nuts. She’s not wrong.

Today is my ten-year wedding anniversary.

A whole decade. And I am celebrating by getting a colonoscopy.

If that doesn’t perfectly summarize midlife I genuinely don’t know what does. Aunt Susie insisted on being my ride because she cannot wait to mess with me when I’m coming out of twilight sedation. I expect to wake up confused and immediately roasted. Matt and I will celebrate tomorrow — dinner and drinks in the city at a place I’ve been wanting to try. Not exactly his scene, but he loves me enough to be a good sport. I know he will.

This morning we were up at 4 a.m. for the tail end of my prep — which, for the record, is just his normal wakeup time, so he had no sympathy whatsoever. We exchanged anniversary cards. And out of every card at Walgreens, we had each bought each other the exact same one.

Ten years of marriage and we are still the same person. I love that.

Looking back at our wedding photos is bittersweet. They’re beautiful. But there are seven people in those pictures who are no longer here. Seven. Life moves in such strange waves — joy and grief and growth all jammed together, and you don’t always notice how much has changed until you’re looking at a photo from a decade ago.

I’ve changed. I know that. I’m softer now. Less angry. More intentional. Writing this blog, turning fifty, surviving what I’ve survived — it shifts something. Rearranges your values and priorities when you’re not even paying attention. What used to feel urgent doesn’t anymore. What used to feel impossible feels more manageable. And what used to feel like enough sometimes isn’t, but in a good way — in a I want more life, not more stuff kind of way.

Ten years married. Fifteen years at Dynamic. Almost fifty years alive. A lot has happened. A lot has changed. Some of it hurt more than I knew how to say at the time. But I’m grateful for where I am.

Still learning. Still evolving. Still trying to lead with kindness even when the world feels heavy.

It’s not flashy. It’s not cinematic.

But it’s real. And right now, real is more than enough.

Cheers to ten years, babe.

Now someone come get me out of this colonoscopy gown.