203 weeks and 5 days | Going Grey

‘Going Grey’ was the phrase on my lips this weekend.

I’d decided late on Friday night that I was going to repaint the snug.

Again.

I’d only painted it just before Christmas but the colour just didn’t suit.

And hey. It’s only paint at the end of the day. I’ve never been one for shying away from trying new colours.

If it doesn’t work, paint over it.

So — instead of a pale silver (that did the room no favours at all) —  I decided on the darkest, moodiest charcoal grey instead.

My boy and I make a great team — especially when it comes to painting and decorating. I am responsible for cutting in with a paintbrush whilst he fills in the middle with a roller.

We adopted those roles so naturally. I don’t remember there ever being a discussion — we just started out that way. And here we are, twenty years on, doing the same thing.

Twenty years on.

Twenty.

A whole lifetime.

And here-in lies the thing that had been bugging me since my birthday last week.

I am getting old.

Going Grey
Going grey: painting the walls to match my hair!
Going Grey
In love with the colour — Down Pipe by Farrow and Ball
My skin is beginning to show signs of age.

And, like the walls of our snug, my hair is going grey.

But the visible signs of ageing are not really the thing that was upsetting me. Odd that when you start talking about ‘growing old’ everyone just assumes you’re talking about looks.

I’d posted a pic on Instagram early on Saturday morning.

Nothing unusual about that. It was a normal pic — nothing special — just a picture of me in my lovely new coat, that my boy had bought for my birthday.

But as I’d posted it — instead of a little caption about my coat — I’d gone off on a bit of a tangent and ended up writing about how I was feeling.

This prompted a fantastic response on my Facebook and Instagram threads. Lovely friends trying to allay my fears; reassure me that I didn’t look my age.

But it really, really wasn’t anything about looks.

The post was written in fear — rather than pride. Fear of the future. Fear of losing my parents — Richard’s parents. The dread of losing the love of my life. Anxiety of not being around for my own beautiful boys.

Going Grey
My gorgeous baby
Going Grey
Love this cheeky little face!
My birthday — instead of promoting joy and excitement — had thrown up so many negative thoughts.

I don’t look my age. And I certainly don’t feel my age. But chronologically — and biologically — I am that age.

But I am not ready to be any older. Not just yet.

I want things to stay exactly as they are. And this is the crux of the matter.

Things are perfect at the moment. My boy and I are so happy. We have each other; our health. We have our beloved sons; who we’d waited so patiently for.

We both still have both of our parents. All of our siblings.

We both have our own businesses — careers that we love. Working for yourself can be scary and unpredictable (especially at first) and for quite a few years money was very tight. But for the first time in ages we’re doing well financially.

Sure we could do with a bit of extra cash (who couldn’t?); but things are comfortable after a long time of scrimping and saving.

Life is good.

Life — for me — is perfect. There is nothing I want that would make it any better.

Apart from to stop time.

Going Grey
Roller-King
Going Grey
Edges-Queen
Things can change in a heartbeat. I know this only too well, through losing my friend.

But — death aside — one of the things I’d questioned, in my little rambling Instagram post, was whether I’ll actually ever begin to feel my age? I certainly do not feel as though I’m in my mid-forties, that’s for sure.

In my head, I’m still twenty eight.

Which brings me on to an interesting theory, flagged up by one of my friends in response to my question. Which would certainly explain why I feel the age I do.

He said that the disparity between chronological and mental age usually starts at around the age of eight, when we start to think of ourselves as older than we are; a fourteen year old thinking they’re eighteen for example.

The gap begins to close and at the age of twenty-five — or thereabouts — our body and mind finally sync and we feel our age.

Hurrah!

Although — don’t get too excited.

After that, the gap in chronological and perceived age starts to grow apart in the other direction. By our early thirties there is already a noticeable difference by just a few years. The gap continues to grow and those who are sixty-five have a perceived age of fifty.

Which is how he knows about this stuff.

He works for a funeral plan company and said that although they market their funeral plans to the over fifties, they know full well that the majority of people don’t even begin researching them until they’re sixty five. As that is when they think they are old enough to start looking at those sort of things.

He finished off by saying.

We’ll always be much younger in mind than body. All we can do is to try our very best to live young too.

Amen to that.

And so endeth the tale of ‘going grey’.

The snug looks amazing in it’s new shade by the way. And I feel better, having spent a full and happy weekend surrounded by friends and family. My fears have been shelved.

Until next birthday.

And the moral of the story is, no matter how old your birth certificate says you are, unless you’re twenty-five you probably won’t feel your age.

Going Grey
So the walls may be going grey but our life is still full of colour

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About The Twinkle Diaries

Big eyes & a happy heart. Festival goer, gin lover. Lives in a haphazard state of chaotic bliss with a lovely husband, twin toddler boys, three cats & four chickens.

27 thoughts on “203 weeks and 5 days | Going Grey

  1. Oh Caro, this is such a brilliant post. I love the way it started out being about one thing and then ended up being about another. Age is a funny old thing, eh? I had a miserable time in my 20’s. My depression was life threatening and I was miserable. I feel my life didn’t really take off until just before my 30th birthday. I married Mr H nine days before turning the big 3-0. And here I am at 38 and I feel like I’ve barely lived. Thanks for writing such a thought provoking piece. And you are gorgeous. Inside and out. Hugs Lucy xxxx

    1. Thanks so much lovely — the post was written just the way my mind works. Meandering from one thing to another!! I’m so glad you’ve had a better, happier time in your 30s. Depression is a bitch — life’s too short and precious to allow it to take a hold. Thanks for your lovely comments xx

  2. I love this Caro and you’re so right we should celebrate the colour in our lives. I’ve just seen that one of my friends lost her best friend over the weekend. She was only 32 and leaves behind a little girl. There are certainly more important things to worry about than going grey. In fact, in hindsight, I’m lucky to be going grey. Here’s to looking 100, but feeling 18! I certainly lived up to having the mental age of an 18 year old over the weekend. I’m on day 2 of a hangover and my body is currently feeling every minute of its 32 years 😂 Xxx

  3. I really love that colour grey – it looks fantastic and I’m impressed that you managed to get it done over a weekend with kid in tow! It’s so interesting about never really feeling your age – I think it’s true for me too, but I might have the opposite problem and sometimes feel about 10 years older than I am, especially since having kids- ha ha!! :) Philippa x

    1. Haha! Thanks Philippa! Having the twins has never put me off doing DIY. They’re so used to seeing their nmama and daddy get the tools out and start decorating on a weekend — they just muddle about whilst it’s going on around their ears!! xx

  4. Oh I know exactly what you mean – I spend far too much time worrying about when things might change for the worse, and not enough just enjoying the good times. A big yes to aiming to live young! And I’m loving the new snug colour – we’ve just refitted our bathroom with tiles in a similar shade and it’s opened my eyes to a whole new world of being brave with colour. Living room next!

    1. Ordinarily I’m pretty good at living in the moment — and ignoring my age. Birthdays over the last couple of years always seem to throw me off kilter and make me all worried though!! And hurray for embracing colour and being brave!! I look forward to seeing your living room! :)

  5. Ugh, I know exactly how you feel. I turned 40 just before Christmas and I’ve started to worry about the future like never before. I think it’s natural to feel like this as time passes. I feel like time is speeding up & I want to savour every moment of my daughter’s childhood and beyond. I think being aware of ageing and mortality, makes you live more, enjoy simple things more…enjoy times with the ones you love while you can. Really enjoyed your post xx #homeetc

    1. Aah thanks so much lovely. I never, ever felt like this before — not even when I turned 40!!! I think children definitely make you feel this way though — the thought of not being there for them is so upsetting. But no point dwelling on that — we need to live in the present and celebrate the moment. No point being fearful of the future and letting negative thoughts spoil the here and now x

  6. Errrrr I can totally relate. I hate to think of the future, it’s quite scary, the thought of losing your loved ones. I wish time would slow down. I still feel like I’m 25, I think I will forever. Agh, what can you do though, just not think about it I guess! The snug does look lovely by the way :D xx
    #HomeEtc

  7. Totally normal gorgeous gal – I’m 17 in the head… and not 17 in the face (or the roots of my hair ;-)) but the thing we must be most proud of is that we have survived everything that life has thrown at us, with smiley faces. And we will be ready to face what the future might bring when the time comes xXx

  8. Love this post and I loved your tale of grey :) I certainly felt most of my age around the 25 age… and I still feel younger than my real age. Strange that. Maybe your friend is on to something. #homeetc

    1. I agree. Or — maybe not speeds time up but certainly makes you more aware of your own mortality!! And thanks lovely — I’m still OBSESSED with how gorgeous it looks in real life!! It was a bit of a brave decision but I’m over the moon with it!!

  9. I love this post, and I feel exactly the same. Life at the moment is good, really good. Having G has completed out family in more ways than I ever could have imagined and I want time to slow down a bit now. I don’t want him to grow up too fast, don’t want O to lose the innocence of a 5 year old. I want the enjoy right now.

    The colour looks amazing!!

    Oh, and my official age is forever 32!

    xx

  10. I love the change you made so much, such a gorgeous shade of grey. I remember watching over on IG Stories. That first photo of you is lovely, beautiful light and your skin looks flawless x

  11. First of all, I love the boys in their Welsh tops!! Secondly, I think I’ll always feel 24 in my heart regardless of my ‘real’ age. I once had this conversation with my mum who’s 65 and she told me she still feels 21 – she acts it too!! Ha ha ha, love her so much, she’s an amazing woman xx

    1. Haha!! I don’t think the ‘half English’ aspect is ever going to be celebrated in our house sadly, when it comes to rugby!! Their daddy is SO welsh when it comes to the game. I think he’d disown them if they ever supported England!! LOL! ;)

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