Shit figure-outers: Reveal yourselves

For most of my life, I was certain I’d have shit figured out by the time I reached my 50s. The older generations always appeared to have their shit together in my eyes. Now I realize that they were either great actors and wanted to protect us younger folk from the realities of life, or I was just extremely naïve. It was probably both.

What am I doing in my 50s without the slightest idea about what I want to do when I grow up, who I want to be, or where I want to live? This can’t be normal. Oh, but it is, the wiser, less naïve version of myself responds.

I’ve long felt that my father, in his final years, felt disappointed with how his life turned out. There was a look in his eyes that I felt I could read. He was thinking, “This is it? This is all I will ever be? All I will ever accomplish?” I think, in many ways, he was heartbroken. My father was an academic. He was a professor of kinetic chemistry. He loved his job and he loved his students. He also loved research, something he wasn’t able to do much of once he moved to Saudi Arabia, where he spent some 30 years of his academic career. My father knew his own potential. It was thwarted and he knew it.

In some ways I find myself with similar thoughts about my own life. This is it? This is all I will ever accomplish? All I will ever be? I know I have accomplished some things in life. I realize that I have lived a rich life, full of adventure, love, loss and achievement. I know that. But there’s a weird feeling residing inside of me. I’m conflicted. I want to be more. I want to do more. At the same time, I’m tired. I just want to settle down and get out of the way of other humans. I’m tired of being rebellious and wanting to change the world. And I’m upset that I don’t have the energy anymore to be rebellious and want to change the world.

50: An age of difficult realizations and utter confusion?

I have been very fortunate so far this year regarding the things I have been able to do. At the same time, this year is turning out to be one of the most difficult for me emotionally.

I am not sure why that is. My circumstances haven’t changed much. But perhaps some of my realizations have. It could be that I’m getting closer to that age when hormones, or the lack thereof, are known to wreak havoc on a woman’s body. Or it could be a symptom of going through a new stage of life.

Whatever the reasons, as years pass and phases come and go, I find myself considering my parents’ lives and feeling a stronger connection and understanding of what things might have been like for them.

It hurts. It really does. Neither of them had an easy life. But as they were going through their many difficulties, I, as their daughter, had no real comprehension of them. I could only see their actions and behaviors through my very limited and selfish lens. It is only when life shoves somewhat similar challenges in my direction that it dawns on me why Mom or Baba were the way they were or why they made certain decisions.

It pains me to think that my parents may have felt the way I feel sometimes. I think: Now I understand. Now I understand why sometimes they seemed so unreasonable or acted so oddly. I see more clearly how much they loved us and I see the pains their love left them with.

How could I have been so ignorant or ignoring of everything they went through? Or is that a protective mechanism we have as children and even as adults yet to reach these stages that shields us from what we’re not emotionally ready to deal with? Are we ever equipped to deal with all the phases that our parents go through? Or do we have in-built mechanisms that make us inherently selfish, prioritizing self rather than others, so that we have a chance at making it to the other end?

I’m finding the feelings and realizations of this year very difficult to deal with. I feel like I’m missing the ability to converse with like-minded women of my age or older. My personal circumstances are definitely different from most others, I assume. But do all these emotions naturally start appearing around the age of 50? Does it get better? Does it get worse? Do things actually get more difficult for us as our own children grow into adults and start building their own lives? Am I going through an identity crisis? Does that happen to other parents?

After years of thinking I knew what I was doing, that I was making the best decisions I could make given the circumstances I was in, I find myself completely lost as to what is right and wrong, and what needs to be done next. Rather than feeling that I am reaching a phase of wisdom and maturity, I feel very lost and lonely.

I am not depressed. But I am confused and I do get more emotional than I have been for quite a long time. I’m going to a therapist to help me work through all these emotions.

But please, women (and men) in their 50s, 60s, and 70s, talk to me. Please tell me that this is just another phase that we all go through and that it will, eventually, pass.

 

 

 

A Life of Adventure Impossible to Have

It’s back. 

The restlessness.

I almost thought I was cured.

I came back from an amazing two months of cycling across Europe and I finally felt content.

I was happy just recovering from the after-pains, relaxing and reading a book, watching my crappy reality television shows.

I found pleasure cooking for myself and for my family at home after two months of eating at restaurants.

I was enjoying testing out my general fitness by going back to the gym and by trying to run again. I discovered that I had great lower body strength, I ran 5km faster than I ever had before, my cardio was going strong, but I have zero upper body strength, my hamstrings aren’t stretching the way they used to, my knees make crunching sounds whenever I go up stairs, and I feel lots of pain all over my body after a normal workout at the gym.

I’ve been back for 19 days. It’s only been 19 days. And I feel – again – that something significant is missing from my life.

I need purpose. I need a project. I need to be doing something. But not just anything. I need something I can be passionate about again.