When is it my turn?

Midlife is a time for reflection. If we ascribe to the general beliefs of our society, we think that we should have well-established careers, long-term successful marriages and completely- or mostly-raised kids.

If you look at the ads, it seems we’re on the cusp of weekends in wine country with the hubby, touring in a fabulous convertible, a scarf protecting our grey yet stylish hair. Soon we’ll be playing tennis; meeting other fabulous couples at the club for doubles before brunch on the sunlit patio.

But is that true? What about those of us who suffered financial setbacks; who can afford the racket but not the club? Who cashed in RRSPs to pay the mortgage? Who have developed mid-life acne and wrinkles? Or look fabulous but lost the hubby somewhere along the way? Whose kids are still quite young or refuse to move out, or whose parents are aging?

We’re starting to understand that we will soon become, if we haven’t already, the caretakers of our parents. Many of us still have school-aged children. Some of us have grandchildren.

We’re starting to wonder when we get time for ourselves. When is it my turn?

How do we carve out time and energy for our own lives? When do we get to live for ourselves? Or do we? Is that kind of thinking unrealistic?

Is the secret to happiness to have neither kids nor parents? Or maybe just to be a model in those retirement ads?

When did life stop being about preparing – getting ready for adulthood, college, work, marriage, home ownership, babies, and school – and become about caretaking; endless mindless caretaking? Maintenance of kids, roofs, and jobs; trying to avoid losing things you didn’t necessarily set out to gain? When does the fun start?

I think it’s so important to carve out territory for us alone. As women, we often spend at least part of our lives caring for others – partners, babies, parents. Once in the habit, it’s all too easy to forget to put ourselves first.

We’ve all heard that analogy of oxygen masks in an airplane; that you’re no help to anyone else unless you put yours on first. Slumping unconscious is not helpful.

But what about giving yourself oxygen just to keep yourself alive? Why do we assume putting others first is better? We’re here to live our lives and that’s our first responsibility. When did we decide we need an excuse to save ourselves?

At mid-life we realise that life does indeed pass and really is finite. That there is an expiry date on our bodies and our dreams. It’s no longer all before us, in a sunny fantasy. It’s gone away or passed us by.

Mid-life is when we have to admit that some things just aren’t going to happen. We need to mourn those dreams.

Then we need to turn and face – and fully embrace – that which is, those who are in our lives, and all that we do have. It’s most likely not what we planned, but it’s what we’ve got.

Then it’s time to make new dreams for the second half of our lives. 

Aging

Notice how tightly we cling to rules about aging?

I hear experts and laymen saying that of course your back hurts when you’re over forty. Or that you have to get transition lenses when you’re fifty. Or that you can’t lose belly fat after thirty-five.

Many people my age are experiencing what I take to be the classic mid-life crisis, both in their lives and regarding health. “I’m X years old – that’s too old to start this, try that or wear those.”

Even my sporty friends decry the breakdown of their bodies now that they’re ancient – you know; over forty.

I’ve discovered how rigidly we apply these rules in almost all areas of life. Sometimes, it’s a good thing – no mini skirts after 35, for example, is a directive that benefits us all.

What about those who simply don’t buy into the “at age X your body is X” schools of thought?

I have to provide full disclosure on this topic. In human years I’m forty-seven, but my Wii Fit age is 29. In mentality and outlook, I’m about thirty-five. My emotional maturity has – thank god – finally kicked in and is closing on seventy-five, although it’s been known to dip as low as seven.

When I look at my “aged” friends with their bad backs, sore knees and aching shoulders, I think maybe it’s not age; maybe it’s the years and years of repetitive strain they put on their knees and backs, with no practice of yoga, tai chi or qigong to alleviate it.

Maybe aging is not so much about what you do or how old you are, but of the care you take of your mental and physical well-being.

Maybe aging is mitigated by new experiences, open minds and an open heart.