Guidance

Seeking help for one's mental or emotional state brings up a lot of questions in the conservative area from where I hail.  Exposure of that kind of weakness should bring about a circling of the wagons from loved ones and friends but oftentimes, the hushed whispers of disapproval abound in the community.

With that upbringing, it took quite a while for me to actually seek guidance from a counselor.  I was distrustful and skeptical especially when medication was mentioned as a remedy but I'm so thankful for the doctor who did suggest it.  My sunny disposition takes a lot of rain to make the clouds appear but I can clearly remember when the clouds set in and stayed.  My youngest was a sensitive toddler and the hoops that I had to jump through to keep a peaceful home were getting more numerous.  I wanted my household to be a refuge of happiness for all of us.

I had grown up hearing adults argue and harsh tones as the norm so I was even more determined to stop recycling old behaviors.  My personal physician knew that I wasn't myself and with a simple questionnaire and his own observations, he pronounced me mildly depressed.  That didn't make sense---I was living the fairy tale!  But some days were like Grimm's....

Because we were moving all over the country with  bonding and severing taking place in my friendships, I found it difficult to find a like minded soul.  Now I know how many were also quietly looking for affirmation from another.  Young mothers and wives left to navigate without the help of nearby friends or family...it is a difficult time.  Plus, I was convinced that it would pass.  And it truly did but I wasn't able to wean myself off the medicine and it was such a tiny dose!  The lowest milligram possible halved even then...so why couldn't my body adjust?  If I had been brave enough to reach out to a professional counselor/therapist instead of just an internist, I would have learned about the physiology of mood disorders.  Brain chemistry, hormones, stress, physical duress---all of it plays a pivotal role in the our emotional/mental health.  Plus, I actually do live seeking the bright side of everything.

Roughly 8 years after my introduction to "happy pills," I was diagnosed with MS.  It was then that I heard about my body's inability to hold Vitamin D, an important component of happiness chemistry, and apparently, it had been happening for a while.  Without Vit D, I had developed osteopenia with the chance of it becoming osteoporosis at 42!  Before menopause!  The wake up call about my physical challenges started me down the path of exploration for my mental and emotional well being.  Plus, MS was a depressing diagnosis at first.

My gut instinct had originally told me that the mild depression wasn't about how I processed life's events; it was about my body's inability to fit all the puzzle pieces together to consistently keep my mood in proper perspective.  I no longer felt guilty about taking that tiny happy pill and I regret my past angst because it truly wasn't the fault of my sunny disposition.  The logical reason was physical and I'm thankful for modern medicine to help me sort it out.

But a pill does not fit all the variables of life's ups and downs.  And so, as I entered the realm of divorce, I realized that it was time to find a professional to help navigate its difficult path. I'm grateful knowing that she is available as a touchstone for my happiness.  Looking outside oneself is difficult and having an unbiased person provide feedback is invaluable.  After visiting her last week, we realized it had been 16 months since our last session.  It's encouraging that once a goal is reached, maintenance can be simple with a positive attitude and good doctors.

Re-education?

Successfully inducing closure on a painful life event remains challenging.  For most of my adult life, I did not have a fully loaded emotional tool box.  I didn't know what I didn't know!  Perhaps if there had been a college exit exam testing emotional readiness for adulthood, I might be better prepared (and maybe still in college!)

But I'm no different than the bulk of my peers.  We drifted into our jobs, marriages, social life and families of our own making.  Looking back, I can see how my "get it done" mentality left no room for introspection.  Life was for the LIVING, not the philosophical and so I plowed through 3 decades of projects leaving scant time for my personal growth.

Finally, that time has come and I'm playing catch-up.  Another life transition is occurring but I choose enlightenment over ignorance.  My "to do" list is made up of clearing away years' worth of clutter so that I can embrace myself and others in a more caring fashion with mindfulness being key to my re-education.  There is still much to do in the daily routine of living, yet I allow it only minimal time.

The concept is so clear in my mind that I feel frustrated when others of my generation aren't working on themselves.  How do I tap them on the shoulder and turn them to the light?  Sounds ridiculous because it is; they're the only ones who can choose their path and who am I to say that their darkness is any less valuable than my pursuit of happiness?  I can say it if they start drifting into my path and casting shadows upon my light!

In another time, I didn't feel worthy enough to stand up for my dignity if I felt it had been assaulted.  That is changing.  I might be slower than ideal, but I get there and given time for reflection, I'm finding it easier to confront those who have cast their shadows upon me.

I confront myself, them, and then I forgive us both.  Humanity is a harsh business at times and getting lost on its paths is commonplace but it need not be a lifetime of wandering.  Instead, I will just walk around others blocking my joyful path; I don't like getting knee deep in their life muck but I've found it will wash off and I end up being smarter for the diversion.

My Own Two

Now that both children spend the bulk of their time away from me with their summer jobs, school, etc., I've been plotting how to stay connected to the vibrant world they inhabit.  Not by being a FB or Instagram stalker of their own activities, but staying in touch with the wondrous pop culture that interests them and causes them to reflect and react.

Assuredly, being around teens keeps one youthful and that is part of the loss I'm feeling as they are leaping from the nest.  I miss the running commentaries about new gadgets, up and coming music, ridiculous television shows, and their unique perspectives concerning world events.

Yes, we are so much more linked than I was at this age.  Then, it might have been one phone call home per week and an occasional letter and now we can actually engage with them on social media...no, that would be going too far.  We can actually look at their postings but heaven forbid we "like" or comment too often.

If I were to go back into the school system as a substitute teacher, it would be much easier to dip my toe into youth culture but admittedly, after six years of dealing with high school and my kids, I'm not interested in that venue any longer.

Young people besides my own two might give me that touchstone of culture that I'm missing...but truly, is it that I miss hearing the musings of youth or just my own two?  With that, I'll try to follow along as I see their funny quips online and links to follow as something catches their eye.  It won't be the same but I will try to see it as better.  After all, I've tried to teach them to stay engaged and hungry for knowledge and experiences that will enhance their lives and propel them to reach out to others.

If I'm lucky, they may still reach out to me to share a tidbit now and then....

Age. Just a number?

So many times I hear the phrase, "Age?  Don't worry about it.  It's just a number."

How do they know?    Are they at a point in life where so little transition is happening?

Numbers are important and with age, it's not to be trivialized.  As much as people tout their nonchalance concerning age, it's interesting to see how quickly a label gets slapped on someone if they step out of the boundaries for age appropriate behavior.

As midlife women, we are encouraged to embrace our age but the media constantly tells us how to appear younger in our outward appearance.  And should we actually follow through with the prescribed formula of anti-aging, then the label of desperate is quickly applied.  Going out with a younger man even if he's mature looking and acting...still considered a cougar and the relationship is looked at with a wink and nod.

Older man with younger woman...gold-digger, daddy lover, and for him-cradle robber.

The mindset of youth is ageless and should be celebrated but the eras from which we are born are equally important.

Tick Tock

Tick Tock
My life is but a clock,
A turning wheel of history
Making time a mystery.

Tick Tock
I seek for it to stop,
Giving back my memories
Changing life instantly.

Tick Tock
Time winding down forgot,
As treasured moments oft
Are lost with every tick..tock....
.

Ah, poetry

During the days when it seems as if I exist alone, I think of Emily Dickinson and her morbid fascination with death and its aftermath.  She gives her words the experience of birth and death as she deftly weaves them into succinct poetry.  The breath of life with the sorrow of living make up the mosaic of her mastery.

"HOPE" is the thing with feathers—

That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all—

And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard—
And sore must be the storm—
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm—

I've heard it in the chillest land—
And on the strangest Sea—
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb—of Me.

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And as I remember that I'm not truly alone but just living as so for the moment, I look at a modern poet from my dear Kentucky.  Even if I cannot visit the "nature" he speaks of for solace, I read his words and I am there.  He comforts me.

The Peace of Wild Things, Wendell Berry

When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

I am, I will, I do.

My mother passed along that phrase.  As I have been reading her father's diaries, I see that "doing" has always been important within her family.  Day by day, my grandfather listed his "done" list and rarely do I read of his emotional side.  It's important to recognize my family's emphasis on filling a day with chores.  I find myself doing the same thing and with that, I find myself feeling guilty if I've let an hour pass without accomplishing something.

And now the crux of the issue...I'm struggling to give myself permission to simply take the time "to be."  The research is clear and arguments against it are useless as history proves the theory correct.  Great insight and discovery happen when the brain is allowed to rest from its multi-tasking fury.

I am, I will, I BE?

Besides my family's influence, my own motivation is to set and reach goals.  With that comes unconscious planning and I'm off to complete tasks.  Since I deal with my wildly fluctuating creative instincts, I'm comfortable with starting and pausing tasks but not to the point that my surroundings are disturbed.  Instead, I keep a mental "junk drawer" that calls my name and propels me back to work.  As a stay at home mother, my home appeared clean and orderly, the children well kept, the husband and pets content, and I was the calm mother and wife.  Unfortunately, we know that the fairy tale of living that life is more horror story.  I buried my disappointment and stress when life's daily events went awry.  My coping skill was denial. Since I wasn't bringing home a pay check, I tried to do every other job possible to maintain the homestead as my contribution.  That meant there were a lot of daily disappointments and I was hyper sensitive to my husband's criticism.  Yes, he was "only trying to help me do it better" most times, but with the overwhelming amount of work that I put on myself, I could only hear that it was wrong.  We certainly needed communication assistance but alas, it never happened.

Perfectionism remains my struggle.  Although I have made tremendous strides in keeping it at bay and accepting its influence in my life, the side effect is guilt.  Intellectually, I know that it should not be so...mentally, I back away from certain behaviors...emotionally, I attach guilty feelings to my non goal achieving activities.

Just BE instead of Just Do It?

Just BE.

Guilt free.

A worthy goal....

Literally Speechless

It seems I'm becoming more "speechless" than not when it comes to understanding how the opposite sex handles relationships.  Friends and family warned me that it might be better to stay in a bad marriage rather than confront the dating scene in midlife.  My ex husband even used it as an excuse for us staying together rather than confronting the ugliness.  

My observations in the last couple of weeks have me wondering if midlife men have gone mad.  I might surmise that it's just the ones I meet were it not for the fact that so many other women speak about similar circumstances.  

And what is the common theme that keeps popping up in these stories?  Fear.  And it's not the women's fear!  I had NO IDEA that so many men operate with fear as their guiding emotion.  Not love, not passion but absolute fear of being vulnerable and open. 

I guess I'm showing up late to this party of knowledge.  My perception now seems rather quaint and outdated...I truly believed that at this stage of life, it was we single women who were the most fearful.  After all, our looks fade, our careers have suffered while rearing families, our health begins the long transition of menopause, and we tend to be the main caregivers of our aging parents.  Amid that, it's often divorce that has catapulted us to this point and there is the messiness of broken hearts.  

Tonight I learned that a man who was wooing me no less than six months ago had married.  He had been quite forthright that he felt pressured to marry his previous girlfriend regardless of the fact that he didn't feel "in love" with her.  And so he had begun again because he didn't like being alone.  Hmmmm?  Who does?  But I don't use that as an excuse to date someone and listening to my inner voice, I asked a simple question and his answer..."No, I don't think I loved either my ex wife, my old girlfriend or any woman.  I just don't think I can do that."  It was really quite easy for me to not see him again after that.  His last entreaty was at Christmas but not one that I cared to return as his attitude of fear was the same.  

I find out tonight that he has just married the girlfriend he didn't love.  She now has a husband and he doesn't have to be alone.  I will be the cynic and believe that fear guided them both to the altar.  Perhaps this is success  as both their needs are met and I will not judge their union.

It does make me feel more earnest about my own journey though.  Fear kept me trapped in a relationship for half my life but it will be love that guides my second half.  I will work doubly hard to cast aside my cynicism when fear rears itself BUT I will pay great heed to my inner voice when it warns of insincerity.   Perhaps the only love I will get to hold will be that of my family and myself and yet, hope endures.