When I was young, many of my daydreams surrounded growing up, getting married, having babies… standard dreams, at least that’s what I thought. What I saw happen with my friends was a detour from that path. Many of my friends waited to get married, had no kids, pursued their careers, they made different choices. But not me, I took the path I thought I was supposed to in order to truly “adult.” I got married, had my babies, and at the same time, did the career thing.
That’s what many of us do, we follow the path that someone else has laid out for us. The plans that the collective “they” said we were supposed to go down. The plans that were supposed to lead to lifelong adulting happiness. And sometimes that worked out, at least for a while.
In talking to many other women in the middle of their life, what I notice is that many of us did what society expected of us. Happily. Once the kids were out of the house though, the prescribed route started to feel uncomfortable. Now what?
We entered the stage of life where we have choices. In reality, we had choices all along but were so engrained in the societally defined lifepath that it didn’t even register. But now, we start to experience discontent, or feel out of alignment with our own lives. The thought of making a change is scary.
Continuing the path we’re on is certainly an option. It would provide a smooth slide into retirement. But we want different qualities in our lives now. A fulfillment that we haven’t yet experienced. One that comes from reaching into ourselves and pulling out our unique gifts and talents that may have sat on a shelf for 25 years. That’s where courage enters the picture.
It may be that in order to pull out our unique selves, to bring our gifts to light, we take a shift from the paved road. It’s a different phase of adulting, one that is less defined, honestly, it can be a bit scary. We can continue doing the same thing we’ve always done, comfortable, but if it doesn’t match who we are on the inside anymore, is that how we really want to ride out our lives?
Brené Brown explained that whenever you have change, something ‘dies.’ Whether it’s a way of life, a career… and if you’re wise, you realize that and allow yourself to grieve the loss. Doing so better prepares you for what’s next. You can change into who you truly want to be. It’s not that who you were wasn’t right. It was. For a time. But it’s ok to change. Healthy even. Change to who you are becoming.
Now is the time to explore who you are, what you want in this phase of life. What “adult” do you want to be today and for this phase of your life? Even if you’re not in the middle, you have choices. Not always easy, bumpy at times, but leading to the you that’s waiting inside of you. Becoming is beautiful… I pray you are courageous and pursue you.
I have a love/hate relationship with shoes. On the one hand, love…so much. My go to these days are fashion sneakers and sandals, flats of any nature are my jam. But the Arizona Birkenstock sandal and I, there’s something special there. That shoe, I swear, it courted me. Wooed me. Five years ago I would have said it was the shoe of the hippie, today, not only are they fashionable, but there is more than an outside chance the hippie in the room is me, thank you very much.
The call you never expect, news you can’t believe but which sinks in slowly over time. A couple of weeks ago, I received one of those calls at work. A co-worker and friend had passed away unexpectedly, at what I consider a young age, 62. The pain that rippled through my workplace in the following days was palpable as we shared in fond memories and sadness.
As much as I’d like to break into a rendition of “These are of few of my favorite things…” from The Sound of Music, that’s not what’s on my mind today – although – maybe it is now because that tune has now firmly taken up residence via my inner voice (insert face palm here). Instead, the idea of favorite things has been rolling around in my head since I went to a friend’s birthday party the other night.
It’s normal for our lives to ebb and flow and you may have times where you feel you won’t survive. The pain, the struggle, is too hard. Take a breath, think of one of those times now. Got it? I have mine. The feelings that come from merely thinking about those times make my blood pressure rise, my cheeks feel hot, my throat constricted.
It kept coming up in my Instagram feed, Abby Wambach’s book Wolfpack, so I put it on my reading list and powered through this week. It’s an easy quick read, targeted to women, reminding us of what we know but forget. And then I ran across the quote from Eleanor Roosevelt a couple days later, “No one can make you feel inferior without your permission.” The combined wisdom triggered something inside me and has stuck around.
The energy contained in tiny humans never ceases to amaze me. We recently spent 3 days playing at Universal Studios Hollywood with my husband’s son and his family. The 2 grand kids are 6 and 4 and the energy contained within those combined 10 years is beyond description. We played in the park all day and they swam like fish at the hotel pool in the evening. No naps. I wanted a nap just watching them!
At work, we describe busy times as “seasons,” except they’re less seasons and more all the time. And while you adapt to the pace, every now and then there’s a tipping point. Yeah, that happened this week. I found myself standing in front of my friend/boss with tears in my eyes, overwhelmed. Only for a minute, but I tipped.
Today is Mother’s Day and I’m thankful to have both of my children with me. Whenever my boys visit, they shower me with love and endless mocking. Yes, you read that right, mocking. We were alone during their adolescent years and developed a way of interacting all our own. A little poking here and there, but all in love, all in fun. That’s continued as they got older, and I actually enjoy watching them collaborate and laugh about the typically mom things I do.
I was born with a known problem in the way blood flowed to my left foot. Basically, I had too much blood in my foot (fancy medical term… arterial venous fistula) and by the time I was three months old, the doctors had told my parents that I would have to have it amputated, which happened when I was four. I don’t spend a lot of time talking to my parents about it, but there have been moments. One aspect that has stuck with me is that my mother has told me that there were people in her life who told her that my birth defect was a result of some sin she must have committed.