Midlife Unpacked

Yesterday was my birthday. Happy birthday to me. For 52 years I’ve been meandering about this planet, thinking about things philosophical, and trying to work out who I am and what life is about. I don’t have the answer, other than to say I’ve worked out quite recently there isn’t one.

Baby me – starting out

There is no destination in life to which we should strive. No great Santiago de Compostela into which we limp, sweaty with effort and replete with stories, to put our feet up and say, look at what I did. I made it. I have arrived. I am done.

The end game is merely death, and we’ll all get there far too soon to spend our brief time in the sun worrying about it. Life, on the other hand, is an ongoing pilgrimage, set against an ever changing landscape of challenges and opportunities, joys and sadnesses, successes and disasters to contend with.  

Walking through this decade, my 50s, is a revelation. I’m only at the beginning, but it feels markedly different to the previous one, as I suppose they might all do. The 40’s are full of things to occupy your attention. Kids and parents and careers and keeping house. Somehow I managed to fit in a bit of study there too. Emotionally speaking, I think our 40’s are where we worry more about success and whether we’ve done the right things with our lives to achieve the things we wanted to in our 20s and 30s. It’s all a bit fraught in retrospect.

Crossing the Rubicon of 50 moves you into a different stage of life, whether you want it or not. We are getting older, slower, and, joyfully I’m finding, less bothered by the things that used to suck up our energy. With that comes a sense of freedom. For us anyway, our children are increasingly independent and on the brink of leaving the nest. We’ve directed our work endeavours less towards ambition, and more towards enablement. And, I suppose quite naturally, our efforts have been re-orientated towards things that bring us joy. Family, friends, travel, exercise (yes, sweating – who would have thunk it?)

Despite the wobbles that come with this decade – the odd rivers of hormone-inspired insecurity to navigate, and the fact that we are a decade closer to the end times – I feel like I’m moving towards a much more joyful acceptance of who I am. And that is a gift I welcome more and more as time goes on.

Getting a bit older is not without its challenges. Physical – menopause and dodgy eyes and dicky knees and colonoscopies and ageing parents, and emotional too – a declining sense of relevance in the greater world, children leaving home, wrinkles and sagging chins and mood swings (OMG!).

But it feels like this is the decade where you get to decide who you are and what you want to do, free from the baggage, not just of roles and responsibilities and society’s demands, but of your own expectations of yourself.  

I’ve been thinking about what I’m most grateful for this birthday, and it is my relationships. My friends and family. They’re a power source of joy for me, and something I invest in and value deeply.

I’ve always struggled with not feeling good enough, worried about whether people like me or whether I’m welcome or fit in. Adult me, 52-year-old me, sees this for the nonsense it was – baked in stories that came from childhood experiences and need a good counsellor to disassemble and reframe. 52-year-old me is very grateful to 40-year-old me who started that process (and to the wonderful Margaret who helped me unravel myself over that decade). Somewhere along the line, I realised recently, those doubts have mostly faded into the background. Is that best consequence of ageing? You get to reap the fruits of the hard things you already persevered through?

With age comes perspective. And with perspective wisdom. Time on the road of life teaches us to be comfortable enough in our own skins to let go of things that don’t serve us. It shows us that all of this life-thing is just what you make of it, and that it is full of ups and downs, and things outside our control. Experience teaches us that happiness lies a lot more in accepting and appreciating what we have, rather than craving what we don’t. And that being in the moment brings joy, whilst worrying about the next moment is the thief of it.

Ironically, even though so much of it has passed under the bridge, with age comes more time. Time to invest in your friendships, relationships and yourself. Exercise, pursuing passions, putting your feet up and reading a good book. Time to explore and adventure, time to sit.

Age is a gift we should take with both hands, for so many people lose out on it. Turning 52 is glorious. Not just because I feel like I’m finally growing into myself but because of the people who fill my life with joy and, more importantly, get me. I feel known and seen, and that, surely, is a gift worth being thankful for.

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