Navigating the Surprises and Liberties of Middle Adulthood.

Middle adulthood has come at different ages over the decades. I remember looking at Ladybird books and comparing the original versions with more modern versions – the words were the same, but the illustrations were updated. I can’t remember which training course this was for, but I have an awful feeling it was my A levels which were many, many moons ago. They no doubt need updating again.

We do not look like our grandmothers had when they were in their 40s, 50s or 60s, and more expectations are placed on us to continue to be working while looking after the home, the children, grandchildren, and parents – there are usually two of those generations to actively consider at least. There once was a time when children born to women in their 40s were ‘change of life’ babies. Not necessarily so today – but we are wiser than previously and do not assume anything, we do not care to judge, nor consider our place to ask whether we think to or not. Different times we say; those were different times.

I have had it quite easy really, transitioning into middle adulthood. I didn’t have much in the way of hot sweats – I get these a little more now 6 years on, but still nothing visible except for me blowing out saying “jeez, it’s hot in here” while wafting my clothes. But the brain fog was personality changing. I had always had a spectacular memory – as a psychotherapist it helped. I remembered the stories and if the clients ever returned several years later, I didn’t waste their time needing them to retell their story – I remembered them, and we carried on with hardly a moment’s delay. But as the brain fog devoured my memory pathways it swallowed up my lexicon too. I had just changed jobs and became a university lecturer – and this was not the time for my words to escape me – I think the adrenaline helped to keep me from standing there mouth open with words nowhere to be seen. I got away with it thankfully, reputation intact.

 I also began to doubt myself; I doubted my decision making and wondered if I would need to give up driving. I lost my confidence at junctions, motorway slip roads and couldn’t be sure if I was translating the road signs correctly. Such a personality threatening time. I was a confident, courageous, independent woman… wasn’t I? I couldn’t remember.

But that has passed now. I haven’t returned to having the memory of a 30-year-old, but I was doing ok again. The itching in the evenings has passed a little and I am no longer leaving tracks across my skin as I scratch until I draw blood. In fact, I am accepting of many things.

I accept my grey hair, my extra weight, my joint pain, my lessening libido. None of these are so problematic. I could dye my hair, I could be stricter with portion control, I could exercise more, take supplements – but I don’t care enough to. I am quite looking forward to the next big decade – it’s a while off but I am not naïve to the extra challenges to come, it won’t be a shock, I’m actually feeling freed by reducing ambition, by ever more increasing invisibility, by the expectation of another poor performance of each government. I shrug. My ability to care about only that which I can influence is growing.

I will leave Donna Ashworth to express this more – she is more eloquent!

IT’S TIME – by Donna Ashworth.

There comes a day, somewhere in the middle of every woman’s life, when Mother Nature herself stands behind us and wraps her arms around our shoulders, whispering,

“It’s time.”

“You have taken enough now. It’s time to stop growing up, stop growing older and start growing wiser – and wilder.

There are adventures still waiting on you and this time, you will enjoy them with the vision of wisdom and the companionship of hindsight, and you will really let go.

It’s time to stop the madness of comparison and the ridicule of schedule and conformity and start experiencing the joys that a life, free of containment and guilt, can bring.”

She will shake your shoulders gently and remind you that you’ve done your bit. You’ve given too much, cared too much, you’ve suffered too much.

You’ve bought the book as it were and worn the t-shirt.

Worse, you’ve worn the chains and carried the weight of a burden far too heavy for your shoulders.

“It’s time” she will say.

“Let it go, really let it go and feel the freedom of the fresh, clean spaces within you. Fill them with discovery, love and laughter. Fill yourself so full you will no longer fear what is ahead and instead you will greet each day with the excitement of a child.”

She will remind you that if you choose to stop caring what other people think of you and instead of caring what you think of you, that you will experience a new era of your life you never dreamed possible.

‘It’s time’ she will say…

“to write the ending, or new beginning, of your own story.”