Posted on Oct 19, 2021
Today is my 50th birthday. While that is a non-event for some, for me it has significance beyond the culturally conditioned issue with women aging. But let’s start there. In today’s society, there are plenty of mixed messages to choose from regarding women aging. At one end we can embrace it, or, we can purportedly fight it with the proverbial potions and lotions as well as supplements, medications, surgery, and a host of other treatments. It is a billionaire’s dream industry. I find it sad that we, as women, literally buy into this phenomenon, trying to make ourselves into someone that we are not: nubile. Young and sexually desirable.
The first point of contention is objectively undeniable. We are no longer young according to the calendar and passage of time. The second is subjective. Sexual desirability is personal and age exempt. What turns on one person won’t arouse another. There are young people with libido issues as well as aged. Desirability is what you make it –for yourself being desired as well as what you desire. Emotional connection based upon consistent attention and affection is the foundation for a satisfying sex life, which includes knowing what is arousing to you and your partner. Chemistry and desirability between a couple includes appearance (which we know changes over time and circumstances) as much or as little as you choose. Hygiene notwithstanding. 😉 It is not a sole question of finding certain physical traits appealing—again subjective. What is appealing to one person is repelling to another.
My point is that we are buying into a lie when we chase “nubility” as a legitimate course of action to accommodate aging. That would be denial. We are in denial about aging and succumbing to shame messages that we are not valuable unless we are youthful looking and sexually desirable as per an industry or cultural standard. It is a sad state of affairs.
I just finished reading a book entitled On Turning 50: Celebrating Mid-Life Discoveries by Cathleen Rountree that was published in 1993. I found it engaging, inspiring, informative, and in one aspect, disheartening. For the most part, I had to remind myself the book was published 30 years ago given the relevant content. In all likelihood, some of the women who participated in the book are now deceased, or at the very least, octogenarians. What saddened me was how little has changed in 30 years. We, as women, face the same challenges and obstacles today. The only advantage we have is improved access to information about aging and the openness to talk about it. So thank you to all the women who have shared their experiences and paved the path for all who follow.
In mythological terms, women are usually categorized as the maiden, matron, or old crone. Personally I look forward to being an old crone: the wise old woman who lives in the woods. 🙂 Some days, I feel like I embody her already. Other days I feel my mid-life. I think we mistakenly view our 50s as the halfway point of our lives (I certainly do no wish to live to 100!). I have come to perceive our 50s as the midpoint of adulthood given our brains are not fully developed until the age of 24 or so. I can see myself living another 25 years, maybe a bit longer. That in itself is a revealing statement given my struggle with depression and childhood trauma.
There was a time I could not see myself living past my mid-thirties—the age my birth mother died. After reading Motherless Daughters by Hope Edelman, years ago, I was somewhat prepared for this and able to normalize it contextually. Sometimes it still is a surprise to think I have made it all the way to age 50. And there are, admittedly, days when I do not want to live out a full adult life when the depression seeps in and steals my joy. Those days remain very real for me. Thankfully not as frequent as in my youth—a stage of life I would not return to for all the billionaires in the world!
I, personally, have no desire to be nubile. I was going to say ‘once again;’ but at my core, I have never seen myself that way. However as I look at old photos, I can admit that I was young and desirable, in the stage-of-life sense. I have always struggled with fitting in, being appealing to the masses, socially acceptable. However, like many women, I learned early on that “nubility” makes you vulnerable to being taken advantage of and/or traumatized for a lifetime. It is a catch22 to be desired. Our sense-of-self may require it until we learn better; but it also puts us in harm’s way as well as steals our power and authenticity.
I much prefer being 50. I quite enjoyed my 40s. I think the subtitle of the book says it well: celebrating mid-life discoveries. Something I have never done before: look forward to what’s ahead. My struggles with depression included suicidal fixation in my adolescence; which I was fortunately able to downgrade to a tiredness-of-life-in-general: wanting the end to come sooner than later, simply because I tired of the ongoing struggle. But after a near-death experience in my late twenties, I realized that my end would come when it was “time” and not a moment sooner. I was spared for a reason. Even now, on the low days, I ponder about that reason being fulfilled and hence the end can come whenever my allotted time is complete. When all is well with my mental health, I look forward to what is left to discover about myself and the world around me.
If I struggled with believing I am a person of worth and value in the first half of my life, I hope in the second half of my adulthood, I can celebrate more of life’s discoveries. A significant part of embracing aging is being our authentic selves and knowing what we have to offer. Understanding we all have the gift of life, it is up to each one of us how to make the most of that gift both in what we receive in this life and what we give. May your life have purpose and meaning rooted in a strong inner core/sense of self—not defined externally by industries and shame messages.
My birthday wish today is that you all experience a wonder-filled aging process—wherever you might be on that path.
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Posted on Jul 31, 2020
As evidenced by the absence of blog entries, I haven’t written much lately. Not even in my personal journal, which had me puzzled. In the “real world” of writers, it is common practice that one must write at least something every day. It’s certainly not for lack of pondering. And I wouldn’t label it as writer’s block. More along the lines of missing motivation than inspiration. Reluctantly, I admit to moments of losing interest in the idea of maintaining a regular blog. I don’t know how daily or even weekly bloggers do it.
I love words. Always have. I enjoy the actual process of
playing with combinations of words to create just the right nuance or picture.
I appreciate the power of words—to uplift, encourage, challenge, inspire, heal,
connect, engage, interact; but most of all, the ability to make sense of the
senseless. The healing power of meaning can only be conveyed via words.
Many weeks ago, I made an attempt at writing a blog entry to
“use my words” to process anger I was experiencing at the time. This proved
helpful and produced a seed or nugget for a future blog. I even liked what I
wrote at the time; but instead of pursuing that line of thinking, it is time to
unpack this supposed “writer’s block.” After mulling it over for quite some
time, the reason finally occurred to me: survival mode.
For quite some time now I have been in “survival mode.” Not
the kind that lands a person on a survival skills TV show—although some would likely
challenge that assumption living in an ongoing renovation project—but the psychological
kind that engulfs a person in a shroud of self-preservation stifling creativity
and spontaneity. However, I didn’t recognize it as survival mode. I was
sheltered, fed, clothed. All the essentials. Finances are tight; but somehow I
am staying afloat—or as I like to say, keeping the wolves from the door. I have
never been healthier (all things considered). My mental health is in check.
So what was I surviving? Turns out my mental health may not
have been as stable as I was leading myself to believe. I went into survival
mode because the normal routines that keep me sane were being challenged daily.
I am no longer a neat-, clean-, or control-freak. I can live with more
ambiguity than ever before. However, my house was in limbo for several months waiting for its electrical
upgrade to be completed. Wires hanging about. Fixtures waiting to be homed.
Opened cavities in my walls.
Two things I remain terrible at handling: waiting and
disorganization. With my actual house in a state of disarray: Paperwork piled
up; Messes piled up; Dust piled up. I couldn’t properly clean anything. Objects
couldn’t be put back in their places. My house (and life) was in a state of
limbo. And for the most part, I was powerless to make anything happen not being
an electrician and circumstances being beyond my control. So my two Achilles
heels combined into kryptonite (mixed metaphor, I know). I was forced to wait
in an environment of disorganization.
The cornerstone of mental health is maintaining routines. I
was barely managing to keep up with the basics, so some things fell by the
wayside. I am slowly returning to my full morning and bedtime routines with
positive results. And my house is inching its way back to habitable. I am once
again feeling the creative juices flowing—whether writing or making home
improvements. Structural cavities have been filled, primer and paint are
gradually making their way to my walls.
So I do find it interesting that survival mode does not mean
lack of productivity. Many projects have been completed in the past few months.
My home and yard are continually evolving into my own little paradise and
sanctuary. But living in a state of chaos does impact my sense of self and
well-being. My brain focuses on the practical, day-to-day stuff only. Part of
me shuts down as it were. My mind can’t relax and wander where it will. My
spirit retreats to safety—waiting for the imposed disorganization to pass.
Survival mode.
Interestingly, recently I spoke to someone about waiting—which
in retrospect clarifies my survival mode. Waiting is generally associated with anticipation
and excitement—or annoyance and frustration. But for those of us with traumatic
childhoods, waiting is linked to danger: waiting for the other shoe to drop;
for the mood to change; for the blow to hit; for the storm to pass. Our brains need
to be retrained to the many nuances of waiting—not just danger.
Hence, in the framework of waiting equaling danger, it makes
sense that my brain entered survival or shut-down mode. Even though it was
innocuous waiting—for the electrician to be done and my house to return to being
my sanctuary—my brain didn’t know the difference. It just knew we were waiting.
And waiting means impending danger. To make matters worse, I could not rely
upon my usual “go to” to self-soothe: organization; amplifying the angst attached
to waiting. Now that this is part of my consciousness, I can work on retraining
my brain and its associations with waiting. Maybe next time my life is
surrounded by chaos, I will be able to self-soothe more effectively and not
enter survival mode. The healing journey continues.
As you continue on your own journey, here are some questions
to consider: What is your kryptonite that sends you into survival mode? What does
it look like when you shut down? What negative associations hinder your ability
to self-soothe? What changes need to be made to your framework?
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Posted on Dec 24, 2019
As per usual, my mid-month blog
fell to the wayside regardless of my good intentions. A few ideas have been
percolating in my cranium lately. So I have chosen one that ties in with the ending
of a year—in fact, a decade—and the beginning of another, full of hope and
possibilities.
Sometimes our hopes are crushed
when we feel abandoned or unsupported. Humans are the only species (that I am
aware of) who have an amazing array of coping strategies to handle dashed
hopes. Depending upon our upbringing, personalities, life experiences and the
like, our strategies fall upon a spectrum of helpful to harmful.
Most of our strategies are
developed in childhood—and we keep using them well into adulthood or when they
cease to be beneficial (whichever comes first). It takes a particular
self-awareness to be able to note when a behaviour or thought pattern no longer
works for us and adapt a new coping skill.
A common strategy to cope with
disappointment is referring to ourselves as stupid, foolish, idiotic, crazy, or
deficient in some way. This anger-turned-inward protects us from the reality of
the humanness around us. It “saves” precarious relationships. As children, our
minds haven’t acquired the ability to rationalize or take a step back to say,
“My parents did they best they could with what they had; or They are under a
lot of strain right now.” Nor do we as children have the ability to separate
ourselves from the drama or chaos that rightfully belongs to others. Therefore,
our child minds by default take the blame, “There must be something wrong with
me. That’s why my parents are yelling.”
This carries with us into
adulthood. So when faced with disappointment, our default coping mechanism is
to assume we are deficient in some way—that is why we are unsupported, abandoned,
etc. We believe we are wrong.
So as we approach the threshold
of a new year and another decade, it provides an opportunity to stop berating
ourselves. Chaos is chaos. Disappointment is disappointment. It does not mean
we are wrong or deficient or undeserving of better. It means we are human. And
for many of us, that includes going against the grain or holding unpopular
beliefs.
Maybe we think or feel more
deeply than others; so when we opt for simplicity, it sharply contrasts with
those who need to be the centre of attention or who thrive in the over-stimulating
realm of social media. It takes courage to be able to say, “No, not for me,”
when faced with the barrage of shallow connectivity or following the status
quo.
It can be disappointing, even
lonely, when our requests for simplicity are ignored, denied, or denigrated by
the promoters and/or supporters of excess or by those who simply refuse to rock
the boat. They’d rather go with the flow than risk capsizing. And then there is
the whole FOMO crowd: Fear Of Missing Out.
We CAN’T have it all. We WILL
miss out on certain things in favour of others. And sometimes our choices wont’
be the popular ones. We WILL lose out because something bigger and better has
usurped our simplicity and tranquility. Grief, loss, disappointment are all
part of life. Without them, we would be incapable of appreciating love, joy,
and contentment.
The antidote to coping
strategies like FOMO and self-abasement is to discover what we hold dear—and
make choices consistent with those values. Then we will be better able to
grieve our losses and embrace our joys, knowing that both contribute to a full
life, and to discard our fears of deficiency and missing out.
Whether we skim the surface or
dive deeply into life, may 2020 be a year of building healthy coping skills for
whatever the next decade holds.
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Posted on Nov 25, 2019
Life has been chaotic lately. So much so, that I “lose” a
day now and then. With all the changes these past few months, it’s time to
reflect upon the upheaval. Oddly enough, this was prompted by thoughts and
sensations of contentment—not the opposite, which is usually what happens for
me.
Last night I was struck by the thought that I am living life
as I want to live it. And the mixed internal response got me thinking. I felt
both guilt/shame and relief. Plus a pinch of pleasure. Surprisingly, I didn’t
dwell on the guilt piece too long. I was able to bat that intrusive thought
away and simply take a moment to be grateful.
Life if not perfect by any means—if perfect means
struggle-free. But yet life, as I currently know it, is perfect. My risky move has paid off—not financially yet—but
spiritually, mentally, emotionally, physically. I love the mature, character
home I currently live in (even though there is an ever-increasing list of
improvement projects; just when one item gets crossed off, another three get
added). I have easy access to nature trails where I can be surrounded by trees
and grounded by rock. I can hear the rush of water coursing through the nearby
dam with sounds reminiscent of the powerful waterfall it once was. Every drive
through town provides a view of the rapids and flowing river. And with the
fiery sun and whisper of wind, I am in my “elements” on a daily basis.
I love it here. I have come home to my Self—a place I’ve
never been before.
I have never lived truly on my own terms—always factoring in other people, whether it was my parents, siblings, teachers, friends, peers, church leadership, co-workers, husband, in-laws, etc. I, as an individual person, did not count or matter—what mattered was the greater good (usually as dictated by others). To complicate matters, there were the undiagnosed and untreated mental health issues. I never thought for myself; for if I did, I was challenged by those around me or (what I now know as) the “crazy” thinking in my head. I have certainly come a long way.
It is absolutely marvelous to get to know my Self, how I
think, and what I feel. In addition to that, it is a new experience to set
boundaries without guilt. I know what I am about, what is helpful, and what is
harmful. Sure, the old ways of thinking challenge my efforts and are bolstered
by imaginary conversations with those who hold to dogma, conditioning, and
tradition. I must let those conversations go as they do not serve me. Only
weigh me down and hold me back. I do not need to defend myself to perceived
criticism. And I can choose to engage or back away from those conversations in
real life. There is a confidence that comes with knowing who you are and what
you are about.
This transformation has been “in the works” for a long time,
recent developments notwithstanding. There have been shaky moments when I have
had to employ healthy coping strategies learned along the way. In retrospect, I
can see how my life lessons have built upon each other getting me to where I am
today. I have had to rely upon bookending my day with tried-and-true morning
and bedtime routines. And when I first moved into my new home, I had to relearn
what that looked like in different surroundings. It was a bit disorienting
until I got the hang of what works for me in this place. It is important to
note that I kept at it. I knew I could trust my routines to keep me solid. I
just had to reset them.
I am living in a constant, ever changing state of disarray.
But it is my disarray that I have some control over. There are days I am
so overwhelmed, I don’t know where to start. Other days that I run out of
steam. However, as I pick a project and see it through—the result is worth the
discomfort. Not only the satisfaction of a task completed, but also the benefit
of improved living space that reflects who I am and not imposed by a previous
occupant or co-habitant.
Of course the parallel between home renovations and self-improvement is not lost on me; especially the necessity of proper groundwork for lasting results. Knowing the advantage of due process keeps me pressing on when I live with patched walls until I can rearrange my belongings to prime before painting. Very important. I wish the previous renovators knew this as I have large portions of paint chipping off the lath and plaster walls and original wood trim. And of course, when one starts making significant changes, it exposes layers upon layers of what has gone on before.
You may not be undergoing a home renovation at this time;
but we are all engaged to some degree in our own transformation and growth. May
you find hope and healing as you peel back the layers, repair what’s damaged,
and apply life’s lessons on your journey of coming home to your Self.
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Posted on Mar 16, 2019
Friday’s session with my trauma therapist ended on a
bittersweet note. It was a celebration of not only my therapy journey but also
the role he played. I could not have gotten this far without his gentle
guidance. In return, he felt honoured to join me on my journey and to bear
witness to my recovery and growth. As a therapist, I have also been privileged
to bear witness to my clients’ success and be the recipient of their deep
appreciation.
These conversations usually mark a transition from an ending to a beginning: the ending of counselling therapy overlapping with the beginning of the next phase of a person’s courageous journey of self-discovery and growth. What made Friday’s conversation different was the likelihood of a final good-bye.
You see, my therapist has been fighting cancer for a while now. And what seemed like effective treatment has taken a turn for the worse. Hence the bittersweet moment: a celebration of my success and the therapeutic alliance we formed coupled with a permanent ending—not just the usual “ext interview.”
Part of the ending process for therapy includes the reassurance that they can always re-access therapy if/when needed. I am glad that I am doing really well compared to when my therapy journey started and was steering toward the “exit” process anyway. Simply put, it is always hard to say such a weighted good-bye with the hint of finality—especially to someone who has had such a significant impact on your life.
In an interesting cosmic twist, my therapist’s legacy will endure
in my counselling room as I continue to pass on to my clients what I learned under
his guidance: to manage my anxiety, to dive deep, to come up for air, and to
not only persevere but thrive. His influence has been present in many a session
already. Now it will be with more poignancy.
As a trusted friend said to me, at least you had a chance to
say good-bye. Which is very true, and for that I am extremely grateful. How
many times to we say a final good-bye without knowing it? How often do we wish
we could have said good-bye, but didn’t have the option or opportunity?
So in an effort to honour the legacy and the final journey we all must make, transitioning from this life to the next, may the words of this Irish blessing go with him.
May you see God’s light on the path ahead
when the road you walk is dark.
May you always hear,
even in your hour of sorrow,
the gentle singing of the lark.
When times are hard may hardness
never turn your heart to stone,
May you always remember
when the shadows fall—
You do not walk alone.
I also wish you all a Happy St Patrick’s Day this weekend. May you wholeheartedly celebrate the love of life, family, and friends! Sláinte!
Wishing you a rainbow
For sunlight after showers—
Miles and miles of Irish smiles
For golden happy hours—
Shamrocks at your doorway
For luck and laughter too,
And a host of friends that never ends
Each day your whole life through!
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Posted on Nov 11, 2017
I know we are well into November—and the onset of winter—but I will still refer to this as my fall blog. Hopefully next month, I will return to my regular monthly musings. So much has happened in my life since the spring. I have definitely traversed my own Heroine’s Journey—and it’s been quite the wild ride! To (re)discover one’s Self is…well, it’s quite beyond words, really. I do know that I am grateful for the opportunity taken. Intimidating and scary as it was to embark on this Journey, the rewards have been beyond estimation. There is a light at the end of the tunnel. And I’ve no regrets.
I’ve looked back a few times (fortunately, not turning into a pillar of salt—for those familiar with the biblical OT story of Lot’s wife); but all I have seen is how far I’ve come. Obviously I am writing this while in a “good place.” There have definitely been many times of quiet (and not so quiet) despair. Along with the usual suspects of longing, anger, hurt, pain, insecurity, and intense confusion/questioning. I have had to close chapters of my life story and begin new ones.
Recently, my sister lent me a book called Anam Ċara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom by John O’Donohue (1997). Anam Ċara is Gaelic for soul friend. And while most of us look outside ourselves for that soul friend (and I am blessed to have more than one of those), I am learning to look inside myself as well. To befriend that deepest part of myself. Here’s a compilation of quotes that really resonated with me:
“The soul needs love as urgently as the body needs air. In the warmth of love, the soul can be itself. All the possibilities of your human destiny are asleep in your soul. You are here to realize and honour these possibilities. When love comes in to your life, unrecognized dimensions of your destiny awaken and blossom and grow. Possibility is the secret heart of time…Love is the nature of the soul. When we love and allow ourselves to be loved, we begin more and more to inhabit the kingdom of the eternal…We do not need to go out to find love; rather, we need to be still and let love discover us…We cannot fill up our emptiness with objects, possessions, or people. We have to go deeper into that emptiness; then we will find beneath nothingness the flame of love waiting to warm us.” (O’Donohue, pp. 9-12)
How beautiful is that! Which makes me think of the blogs I wrote about The Void (worth a re-read even for me). It’s something we all have to face, or else we get caught up in filling it with objects, possessions, or people—some leading to addictions of every shape, size, and colour. My “drug” of choice is food and sometimes retail therapy in the form of bargain hunting. In those moments, I have to become mindful of what is going on for me and choose a healthier coping strategy or method of self-soothing. Music is a big one for me—with no weight gain or self-loathing or over-spending. Journalling is another, as well as being out in nature.
One of the blessings of being where I am now is that I can look out my front window and observe nature without leaving the comfort of my cabin in cold weather! Yesterday, a wood pecker decided to taste-test the exterior of my humble abode right by the window. Fortunately, it didn’t have the right flavour; so he moved on to something more palatable. I also saw a deer in the distance; but the trees directly in front of my cabin blocked my view. Back to watching the wood pecker and other perching birds. Reminds me, I need to refill the bird feeder.
Pardon the wandering off on a rabbit trail.? Back to possibilities: “All the possibilities of your human destiny are asleep in your soul. You are here to realize and honour these possibilities.”(O’Donohue, p. 9) Within that inner Void lie possibilities. If we drown out the Void, we miss out. Embarking on my Heroine’s Journey of self discovery provided me the opportunity to realize and honour the possibilities deep within—to live out my True Self—to find my purpose. We each have personal purpose lying within the Void of possibilities. Your destiny—should you wish to accept it—is waiting to be awakened.
The word that struck me was “honour.” I cannot honour what lies deep within if I don’t befriend my soul—if I don’t allow myself to love and be loved—if I don’t look beneath the nothingness to find the flame of love waiting to ignite me. I am reminded of another Celtic concept: praying through the elements, particularly breathing in the Fiery Presence to become Fire. I need to let go of self-denial and self-denigration if I am to honour and realize the possibilities within—to be ignited or set on fire, as it were.
This brings to mind a quote by Marianne Williamson that has been used in a couple of “overcoming-the-odds” movies such as Coach Carter (2005) starring Samuel L. Jackson and Akeela and the Bee (2006) with Angela Bassett, Laurence Fishburne, and Keke Palmer. On a side note, these movies follow the Hero’s Quest motif from each gender’s perspective: Coach Carter, the masculine; Akeela and the Bee, the feminine.
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn’t serve the world. There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we’re liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
(pp. 190-191 of “A Return to Love: Reflections on the Principles of A Course in Miracles” by Marianne Williamson, 1993)
Embrace your possibilities. Or we risk growing stagnant, even bitter and resentful. Incapable of giving and receiving love.
“Others want to love, to give themselves, but they have no energy. They carry around in their hearts the corpses of past relationships and are addicted to hurt as confirmation of identity.” (O’Donohue, pp. 12-13)
What a profound metaphor for how we self-sabotage. We carry around the corpses of past relationships (the wounding by others). We can’t let go and free ourselves to honour possibilities. We strangely think that if we let go, we lose our sense of self, our identity. Somehow we have become convinced that the hurt is who we are. We become stuck in victim mode. Let go of the past hurts. Release yourself to live anew. To become a world of possibilities…
”To see a world in a grain of sand and heaven in a wild flower, Hold infinity in the palm of your hand and eternity in an hour.” poet William Blake (1757-1827)
That pep talk is as much for me as for you dear readers, my friends and fellow life-travellers. I may need to post the phrase, “Embrace your possibility,” somewhere I can see it everyday; along with “Befriend your own soul.” That really could be a killer combination—befriending myself and embracing the possibilities that surface. Who knows what could all come of that! ?
So…Allow the inner Void to exist. Peer over the edge. Let the spaciousness you see speak to you. And then look past, beneath the nothingness, to the flame of love waiting to warm and ignite you. It will illuminate the possibilities just waiting to be honoured and realized.
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