I’m Feeling…

Tags

emotions, faith, midlife crisis

I had this drawing of a lion posted at my desk at work and it said, “A strong person is not the one who doesn’t cry. A strong person is one who is quiet and sheds tears for a moment, and then picks up her sword and fights again”.

It’s mocking me!

I want to cry, but I can’t quite give in. By cry, I mean the kind where you drop your pants, crawl under the covers, snuggle up next to your bed buddy and just give’er! No holds barred! Full on, scary, ugly-cry crying! I want to because I know that sweet relief follows. That build up of pressure flows out with your tears and your snot! And when you stop hiccuping and feel the coolness on your face as your tears dry and you start to drift off to sleep, you feel hope again.

I still feel hope, but I’m also feeling a lot of other things these days.

I feel hot and bothered, frustrated with discourteous people and people who don’t do what they say they will do. By well-meaning people who brush off my frustrations with poorly-timed cliches or personal anecdotes that really don’t fit here. Oh, and by hot flashes and night sweats, but mostly by people…

I feel restless. Like a teenagers’ “can’t wait to move away from home and start my life” kind of restlessness. Attending a 2 day leadership conference didn’t help. I came away feeling both overwhelmed by how things should be and aren’t, and by an intense desire to be involved in something that matters. Something transformational and pure and just.

I feel angry. I know that anger is a fickle and volatile companion. It breeds contempt, jealousy, and malice. I have enough weeds in my garden to keep the lawn maintenance companies off my block, I don’t need weeds in my soul too. (Or that zit on my forehead. Hello! I’m over 40 now!)

Strong women wear their pain like they do stilettos. No matter how much it hurts, all you see is the beauty of it.

You know I like my stilettos. I feel fierce in my sassy green boots. But I also feel annoyed because the world appears to be full of platitudes that make vulnerable women feel weak if they don’t behave like warriors, and dismiss their right to hurt.

Joyce Meyers wrote, “A strong woman knows how to keep her like in order. Even with tears in her eyes, she still manages to say, ‘I’m OK’ with a smile”. I disagree! There may be times, when our circumstances dictate that we have to stand firm, put on a strong front, and keep our pain private. But there are other times when we need to let someone in so they can help awaken a new beast within us. Warriors and lone wolves are powerful figures in stories, but how many of them live long enough to share their stories.

I don’t doubt that I am a strong woman, but I resent feeling like I’m not allowed to behave like a “weak” one.  I see myself as a warrior, but I resent the implication that I should feel shame if I need someone to stand by me or stand up for me.  Asking for someone to acknowledge our pain and to help us is a sign of strength.  I believe we need to embrace our messiness and carefully let others embrace us.

I tore down the quote posted at my desk, and I’ve replaced it with a new one. It says, “My prayer is that when I die, all of hell rejoices that I am out of the fight”. See, C.S. Lewis’ quote removes the connotation that I am standing alone, or that I don’t show my feelings and I’m pretending that everything is okay. I may be strong or weak, fierce or vulnerable,  messy or just plain a mess. It connotes that I kept fighting the good fight.

And that makes me feel….hope. And “hope will not lead to disappointment”. (Rom. 5:5a)

The Beacon is Lit

Tags

bikini, humour, midlife crisis

What mid-life crisis would be complete without wearing something completely inappropriate and totally embarrassing to my pre-teen in public?

I know the focus of my blog posts has shifted lately from pushing myself to try new things to sitting back and observing (and laughing through) the opera of the every day.

Life literally abounds in comedy if you just look around you – Mel Brooks

I think it’s been a combination of learning to be content with where I am and learning to laugh wherever that may be, plus a combination of the usual lack of time, energy, motivation, cash, and inspiration. BUT – inspiration took form one sunny day last Summer, as I perused the racks and racks of lycra postage-stamp-sized bikinis.
And I thought to myself:

•  inappropriate? Check!
•  totally embarrassing for offspring? Check!
• In my size? Sold!

What  was I waiting for?

Pinterest.com

I can remember wearing a bikini outside the confines of my bedroom, only twice: my Mom’s bikini with little kittens when I was 8, and a black bikini heavily veiled under a thick t-shirt when I was pregnant with Little Guy! It’s now or never!

So I bought a black bikini top last Summer, brought it home and promptly buried it in my room. Every time I found it, I’d stare at it and ask myself, “what was I thinking?”

***

I dug it out on the weekend because we had been invited to a “pool party”.
But would I carry through…

Step 1: Put on bikini.

It sounded so simple until it came time to do it and I nearly dislocated my shoulder trying to snap it up behind. After fumbling for several minutes, I used the “tried and true” technique – do it up in the front where you can actually see what you’re doing, and slide it around. Check!

Step 2: Stand in front of mirror for closer inspection.

I tripped over a shoe because I was wrestling with step 3.

Step 3: Put hand over mouth to stifle scream and open eyes.

It looked fantastic…in the dark. The curtains were tightly drawn; the door closed. The lights off. And everyone in the house had been warned within an inch of their life to leave me alone!

Step 4: Turn on the lights and inspect.

Once my eyes adjusted to the glare of the light off my abdomen, and the initial shock wore off, I moved in for a closer inspection. Stand up straight, suck it in, smile and turn…?

Undecided and out of time, I threw on a sundress and prayed for rain!

***

Most of the husbands (and teenagers) didn’t make it to the party, which increased my comfort level significantly. But I still wasn’t convinced the world was ready for this!  I wasn’t convinced I was ready for this! Instead, I hoisted my skirts and dilly-dallied on the steps in the shallow end. That is, until the women moved to the hot tub and urged me to join them.

Moment of truth…

No asked me to leave or called Greenpeace to deal with a beached whale.

The horrified glint in Little Guy’s eyes confirmed that I had not failed my duty to embarrass!

The heavens didn’t fall from the sky.

But yes…the beacon is lit!

 

 

 

10 Minute Monday: When is Enough…

Tags

10 minutes mondays, midlife crisis

I keep meeting so many bloggers with great aspirations. I love it! But…it makes me feel like my simple life and my small dreams can’t begin to measure up. No one said they have to and that’s where so many feelings get in the way. Guilt, discontent, fear…

I’m supposed to be writing a blog about having a mid-life crisis, but I am beginning to see that, while I am no longer content to be a wall flower and I’ve certainly pushed myself to try new things (and had fun doing it), it has been the inner struggle of trying to sort out just who I am that has created the most conflict.

Part of the conflict comes from wanting more but not knowing what exactly. How do you flesh out a vision when there is no dream to pursue? Part of the conflict comes from being content with who and where I am right now, but struggling with this nagging sense that I should want more, and feeling guilty that I am not pushing myself harder.

Looking back over the last 5 years, I can see that I have changed. I’ve learned to cry less and laugh more. My outlook on the value of life and the importance of relationships has deepened, without becoming burdensome. And while I still want to “make my mark on the world”, I’m seeing that that mark doesn’t have to be in the form of a charismatic leader on the world stage.  I may never win a literary award and my only claim to fame may be in son’s eyes, but part of me is ok with that.  Not “OK” in the sense that I’m resigned to a fate of obscurity in the annals of history, but “OK” in the sense that it is enough. Right now.

Perhaps, at times, it is even more than enough. This week, to the broken-hearted woman whose friend had passed away only hours before, I was someone she could trust to share her grief in that moment. To the little girl in the public restroom, who couldn’t quite reach the soap dispenser, I was a friendly “mom-type” to set the water temperature and high-five so we both had gooey hands. Perhaps it’s in those moments that I am more “me” than I realize, and if so, I am content with my life.

Krista O’Reilly Davi Digui’s well-written and honest piece entitled “What if All I Want is a Mediocre Life?” showed up on my Facebook Page. I would encourage you to read it. Even if you don’t necessarily want a mediocre life, the reality is that most of us will never walk a red carpet, but is that such a bad thing? When is enough, right now, in the moment, simply and beautifully, more than enough?

There’s still so much to sort out, isn’t there?

Somewhere between the hot and the cold
Somewhere between the new and the old
Somewhere between who I am and who I used to be
Somewhere in the middle, you’ll find me

– John Mark Hall/Casting Crowns, Somewhere In The Middle lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Capitol Christian Music Group

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This has been a “10 Minute Monday” post (where I write about whatever I want for a minimum 10 minutes, no editing – mayhem, memories, maudlin mumblings, or  “mwa ha ha” moments.

The Raging Inferno of My Youth…

Tags

#menopausehumour, aging, humour, midlife crisis, women

Warning: Today’s topic is mostly for the ladies (and perhaps a few brave men). Don’t say I didn’t warn you!

***

I have always loved summer. I love the warmer weather, the lighter clothes, and the slower pace. I appreciate a break from regular routines and dire deadlines.

At least I did…until this year.

While I’m still enjoying the sunshine, the sundresses and the slow schedules, I’m getting sick of the heat.

I haven’t been able to putter in my garden (most of it has turned to dust). I haven’t been able to enjoy a good book on the back porch. I haven’t even been able to enjoy a good night’s sleep. Even when I was on vacation.

I think it’s because Mother Nature isn’t the only one who is menopausal. I’ve been trying to convince my doctor for a few years now, that even though I’m barely in my 40’s, my biological clock battery is running low. This year, as I sat in her office, sweating through my paper dress before her very eyes, she believed me!

It’s bad enough I’m struggling to accept 1) my 3 gray hairs that keep coming back and bringing friends; 2) weight gain just by thinking about dessert; and,3) the pain in my toes heralding the approaching end of high heels. It would seem that I am acquiring a new set of tell-tale signs in the next stage of aging…

• Night sweats

I sleep alone and yet, I still wrestle with temperature control.

• Sleep Problems 

I have trouble going to sleep. I have trouble staying asleep. By 6 a.m. I’m finally heading into a deep sleep and my alarm goes off. I hear every little noise; I worry about the craziest things.

• Mood changes

There’s a fine line between love and homicide, and I’ve had increasingly “homicidal” days. This week I thought about quitting my job and taking up pole dancing…then I remembered that I’m fat, I have the upper body strength of a fairy, and I can’t really dance.

I have less patience with people and increasingly I feel more like a “secretary with a crossbow” at work. I congratulate myself at the end of the day because I haven’t beaten anyone with a chair…maybe my people skills are improving? I suppose that’s better than feeling sorry for myself – I don’t have the patience for that either!

Maybe I should put this sign up:

• Weight gain and slowed metabolism

I’m on a low-fat diet…my fat hangs lower every year. And while guys still notice my boobs, they have to bend forward to see them. My doctor was impressed that not only have I maintained my weight since 2011, I’ve lowered it a bit every year…which makes me wonder more and more what is in my closet that makes my clothes shrink?

• Memory Loss

I forgot was I going to say…

• Dry skin

It’s bad enough that my snow white gams are blinding on a cloudy day…or at midnight, but now they’re white and flaky too. It’s like leg dandruff, and that’s. not. sexy.

• Verbal Incontinence

Do I need to say more?

• Hot flashes (or power surges)

I would love a smoking body, but this is not what I had in mind. I am developing 2 temperature settings – hypothermia and hell! Some would suggest I consider it a mini vacation in the tropics…but it’s still only my living room, and I still can’t wear a bikini (they’ve outlawed whaling). I would happily strip in a snowbank if I wasn’t afraid of getting arrested for indecent exposure. I’ve watched “Orange is the New Black” – I’m not strong enough for prison! I might not mind so much if the heat melted off some extra fat, particularly around my knees, elbows and “bingo wings“. Just how does one “de-chubbify” ones’ knees and elbows? But …

Time is not only no longer on my side; it has totally defected. It sucks!

I’ve considered developing a long-term relationship with Mr.Bubble, Dr. Pepper and Henry (O Henry!), except that I’m afraid to take baths and Dr. Pepper ‘s caffeine doesn’t help the sleep situation. That leaves Henry (O Henry!) and I feel guilty every time I cheat on Hubby.

But if my eyebrows start migrating to my chin, all bets are off! Dad, I’m gonna need more of these!

Yup! It’s the beginning of “the raging inferno of my youth going up in flames”!

Everybody look out!

(And have a happy weekend!) 🙂

T.G.I.F.

Tags

humour, midlife crisis

And so are you! Happy Weekend!

TT: Mid-Life Crisis Clichés

Tags

humour, midlife crisis, Throwback Thursday

A lot of people participate in Throwback Thursdays (“TT”) and they link it to some place…I don’t remember where. I mean, I know I’ve read about it, but I literally. don’t. remember. I take comfort in the fact that every day is another day closer to death.

When I read the term “Throwback”, I picture someone throwing up…so today, for your reading pleasure, I’m sending you on a porcelain journey to one of my posts in my Top 3 Search Terms!

This little loogie was originally posted on January 23, 2012, just a few days into this blog’s inception. It has been viewed 398 times…and has 0 likes! Please take a boo, and when you’ve finished, wipe your chin with the back of your hand, click the “Like” button (to strengthen my ever-weakening pulse), and add a few cliché chunks of your own.

Mid-Life Crisis Clichés

Buon appetito! 🙂

p.s. If laughter is the best medicine, and you’re feeling nauseous now, you could always pop over to Mid-Life Crisis Jokes for Women… which is a genuinely popular post (1,319 views & 18 likes)

 

Reflections

Tags

children, humour, midlife crisis, parenting

It’s hard being a Mom, to choose to “…decide forever to have your heart go walking outside your body” – Elizabeth Stone

One minute I was overwhelmed with the responsibility of teaching another human how to do…well, everything beyond crying and soiling himself. Now I’m staring into the baby blues of a grown hairy, bearded man.

When I became a mom, I envisioned sharing Eskimo kisses as we baked cookies together, not cleaning up cow pies that rivalled an actual cow. I never anticipated looking like a zombie –with a newborn who wants to party all night, or a kid who was having bad dreams about zombies. I swore I’d never hear my mother’s words coming out of my mouth, and yet here they are…hanging in the air! 

I couldn’t wait for him to smile and speak, to crawl into my arms – and then, I was bombarded by knock knock  jokes and slammed doors. I went from my clothes being covered in snot, to dealing with a little snot!

And then suddenly, as if I blinked a few seconds too long, that perfect pink squalling bundle of joy was learning to drive, looking for his first job, packing up his room…and I want that time back! I want the snuggles and the butterfly kisses. Heck! I’d even take a diaper or two just to know that my little boy is safely enfolded in the walls or my home, and not out in the big bad world.

And when the shock of how fast the “watercolour ponies” rode away, I was faced with the deep realization that I have to redefine not only my role as “Mom”, but my role as a person. My job description was constantly changing, and behind the scenes, somewhere between the Thomas the Tank Engine obsession and his first video game obsession, so did I.

Just like my young adult, I was suddenly faced with a future for which I had no plans. It was like a gaping black hole threatening to crush my soul. My head knew I had to let him go, and I wanted to be happy and to build his own life. Hasn’t that been my goal and my role as a Mom? But my heart was tempted to hold on a little longer. My head won – I knew if I clung to him, I would end up pushing him farther away.

I keep choosing to look at the future, not as a dismal abyss, but as a blank slate. This blog has been part of picking up a piece of chalk and writing a new chapter, to push myself to try some new things. It’s been an opportunity to rediscover the old and comfortable, to savour the “opera of the every day”. To figure out what I like. To reflect on where I have been, and where I would like to go.

It’s taking some time. Sometimes it gets messy. But I am slowly re-discovering just how cool I am (OK – “cool” maybe isn’t the right word. I’ve never been “cool”). I’m learning  to be content with who I am and where I am going.

“I’m not crazy, I’m just a little unwell, I know right now you can’t tell. But stay awhile and maybe then you’ll see, a different side of me.” –  Unwell, Matchbox 20

For my kids, I will always be Mom, ready to answer an SOS call when it comes, but  I like that we’re also becoming friends. (Maybe he’s discovering how cool I am…)  I love that we can laugh together, play video games together and just hang out. (I was even cool enough to see Star Wars with him and his friends).

Someday I will be replaced by another woman in his life, just as it should be, and I’m hoping he will once again discover just how “cool” a parent I am,  with his own parents’ eyes. In the meantime, Little Guy is growing up and I’m going to have to do it again. For now, I’ll capture the moments, laugh a lot, and get ready to pick up a new piece of chalk!  

Pr-Eyed

Tags

fashion, humiliation, humour, midlife crisis

I’d like to add something to the end of the expression “Pride goeth before a fall”…I’d like to add “or public humiliation”. (I’m an expert on public humiliation!)

I started noticing about a year ago that I needed to discreetly peer over the top of my glasses to read the really small print, like the instructions on a pill bottle. No big deal!

By this Spring, I found myself taking off my glasses at bedtime, to do my Italian lessons on my iPad. Again, no big deal!

Three weeks ago, I was leading the “kids’ time” during church. I was trying to share a story while also balancing a flashlight and my Bible (while one exceptionally precocious child was misbehaving)…and then I had to precariously balance my glasses in my already full hands, just to read to 2 verses of scripture (while keeping one eye on one misbehaving child). Did I mention that this was in front of the congregation…and a guest speaker?

Pride didn’t want to admit it was time to get bi-focals! Pride didn’t want to wear what I was envisioning – the oversized 1980’s lenses with the tell-tale magnified half-moons gracing the bottom of the lense, screaming “OLD”.

I saw my 12 year old optometrist the next day, and he assured me that a lot has changed in lense “technology” since the 1980’s. It was no big deal!

This morning, I picked up my specs and I wish I had done this sooner. I’m ashamed to admit I let pride (or pr-eyed) get in the way! My new “transitions” lenses are no big deal!

Speaking of public humiliation, the Moms held a “Dance Off” after Bible study last night! Little Guy is still young enough that he wasn’t embarrassed to see his Mom bustin’ some moves. I can’t say the same for some of the older kids. Give him a few years. Oh, by then, I’ll still be bustin’ some moves (or an ankle…or hip….) and I won’t have any pride left. It’ll be no big deal!

* * *

This was the second (of what I hope to be many) 10 Minute Monday posts – write for 10 minutes on whatever, no editing (ok, maybe just a little…)!

Generations

Tags

feedback, humour, midlife crisis

At what age do people stop telling you “you’re just a baby” and start telling you “you’re so old”? Is there a magic number? An age? A state of mind? The average measurement between your boobs and your knees?

Is it when you hear people whispering behing your back that you’re dressing like a 20 year old? Or is it this…when the phrases “your generation” and “my generation” start to creep into conversation?

If it’s the last one, well, I had that happen 2 years ago. I’ve already arrived at “old” and I don’t know how to feel about it!

It happened on an ordinary day – the sun was shining, birds were singing, not a cloud in sight. I was chatting with someone who is barely 12 years younger than me. We were discussing a couple of lovely ladies who just didn’t work well together…one was in her 20s and one was in her 70s.

And then it happened. He used the phrases “my generation…” and “your generation” in the conversation.

I ran through some of the stages of grief in seconds. First, came shock! I felt like I had been slapped in the face and my ears started to ring. I could feel the blood rushing to my face and sweat collecting in pools under my armpits. That sensation was quickly followed by anger, muttering in my head: “That young pup! Just what is he trying to say! Is he saying I’m old?” Then denial: “No, no that’s not what he’s saying. I’m just over-reacting…”

While I was whipping through 3 of the stages of grief, he was trying to explain to me how my generation was something (I think I blacked out), but his generation didn’t put up with crap. I resisted the urge to ask him if he’d ever read a history book – every heard of the suffrage movement? The civil rights movement? Revolutions? Anti-war demonstrations? Every generation has thought they were the generation who was going to make great changes in the world by not putting up with crap!

But I listened to his “crap” (even though I wanted to slap him on back of the head like I might do with my older son…gently, gently) and felt a little smug because “my generation was taught to respect their elders”)…and then I gently pointed out what I saw as the heart of the issue: RESPECT. (Sing it Aretha!)

Neither party respected the other. They both wanted to be “queen bee”. They both thought their way was the right way. And eventually neither one thought the other could do anything right. Tasks were left undone. The relationship was damaged further; toes stepped on. Tensions mounted. And in the end, there were no “winners” – barely any survivors.

It had nothing to do with generations.

Sometimes I have to work with people with strong personalities, and they can drive me nuts.  I don’t put up with their crap, but I do try to show them respect by listening to their point of view. Then they are more willing to listen to mine. We reach a compromise – I don’t see compromise as “backing down”. It doesn’t matter if I’m a “baby” or an “old fart”, we both “leave the table” feeling heard…

RESPECT.

…but if I hear that phrase “my generation” and “your generation” again any time soon from that certain somebody again, I’m going to respect the crap out of him with my fist. I’ve decided that’s how “my generation” rolls!

Happy Monday!

* * *

This was the first (of what I hope to be many) 10 Minute Monday posts – write for 10 minutes on whatever, no editing (ok, maybe just a little…)!

Wilderness Wednesday: Early Morning

Tags

midlife crisis, nature, photography, trees, Wilderness Wednesday

“The person who doesn’t scatter the dew will not comb gray hairs.” – Hunter S. Thompson

“Old friends pass away, new friends appear. It is just like the days. An old day passes, a new day arrives. The important thing is to make it meaningful: a meaningful friend -or a meaningful day.” – Dalai Lama