Midlife Unpacked

It’s been a month – a whole month – since I returned from swanning around Spain. Almost a distant memory, but I’m currently sorting out my hundreds of photos and thinking about how nice life would be if we could just sit around drinking sangria in the sun, eating tapas, all day.

They have a way of life about them, the Spanish, that seems idyllic. I travelled the length and breadth of Spain, from Donostia-San Sebastian in the north west, to the beaches and countryside of Costa Bravo and Girona in the east, and down south to Andalusia, so rich in history and natural beauty it’s hard to know where to start.

Everywhere though, one thing seemed common. The value of gathering together, enjoying each other’s company over simple food made from real ingredients and a glass of local beer or vino. From festivals to post-siesta gatherings of friends and families in the narrow streets of old town, the Spanish-feel is one of celebration. Of being in the moment.

It’s delightful. We all decided that we could move to Spain tomorrow and be quite happy.

This is not to say Spain is without its problems. Culture clashes, crime, poverty. Two thousand years of ideological conquests make for interesting tours, architecture and photo opportunities, but talk also to the human drive of tribalism, culture and identity that wreak havoc on humanity across the globe.

But that’s not what this is about. Instead, it’s about the importance of embracing change.

I’m at a stage of life when everything is changing. It’s been changing for a while, as I’ve mentioned on several occasions. Kids are growing up, and moving out of home. One has left the nest already, the other is knee deep in HSC study as I type. In addition to battling with my changing body shape and chemical make-up, I’m also having to grapple with my changing purpose and meaning. As I keep muttering (unhelpfully) to myself, I’ve become surplus to requirements. I’m not needed, and I’ve found that a bit of a mental struggle, if I’m honest.

I know, I know. One’s sense of value shouldn’t reside in what we do. Our worth should not be tied to our roles or the thoughts and feelings of others. But I’ve always struggled with a need for external validation, and as my role of primary care giver has become increasingly irrelevant, I’ve often found myself at a bit of a teary loss as to my own purpose.

Holding onto the past is no recipe for happiness, and, in this case anyway, the job was to create independent humans who are capable of going out into the world and being decent to their fellow creatures. Appreciating a job well done should be the order of the day.

Still, it isn’t surprising that as we move through these various roles and transition to new places and spaces, we might feel a little at sea. It is only natural to feel somewhat unsettled when things change. I think this is part of the journey of life actually. This up and down, wrestling of emotions as we navigate change. Here lies growth. Be kind to yourself, I remind myself when I remember.

On reflection, there is much to be learned about this period of change, and the feel of the future, in my trip to Spain.

I did my Spanish holiday in three parts, and each has a story to tell.

Firstly, I spent a week with my daughter who has been maturing nicely in the UK and Europe as part of a gap year. How lovely to be greeted with tears of relief. To feel needed and important in that moment. But as we moved through our travels – sitting on the beach or talking in a bar, or driving through the countryside – what I got to experience was a different relationship. A joyous one. One where I am still needed, when required. A safe harbour my child can return to, to replenish her reserves.

But more than that, I realised, now is a stage where I get to share in her journey as a fellow adult. One where we can have fun together, not as parent and child, but as two grown-ups, enjoying each other’s company and observations about life, and tapping into the wisdom of the other when required. This is truly magnificent. And a reminder of the joys to be had in this next stage of life.

The next week was entirely different. Spent with my diaspora of extended family, twenty of us much loved family members, between the ages of 2 and 74, gathered together to celebrate my sister’s 50^th birthday. Here was the noise and chaos of family life.

Between the games and connections, celebrations and adventures, there was the running around of parents after children. The organising of dinners and food and transport, and managing moods and manners and arguments over whose go it is.

Here, for the first time in many years of similar occasions, I was now only an observer, watching the hard work from the outside. It was a reminder about what it is like when you are the caregiver. And a reality check that my hankering for “relevance” is viewed through rose-tinted glasses.

Finally, my sister and I spent a week by ourselves, not a child in sight, exploring Andalusia, eating and drinking whenever we liked, whatever we liked. Caipirinhas in roof top bars, lies ins and late breakfast strolls, bike rides at our own speed. And time to soak in the history of this magnificent place.

This is the promise of the  future. A taste of independence. A place of freedom to follow your own desires and fulfil your own dreams. It just takes some getting your head around after 20 years of worrying about other people’s needs.

 As we transition to empty nesters, we are moving into a distinctly new stage of life, and like all stages of life, which is precious and brief, when seen as opportunity rather than loss, is a glorious gift.

Mike and I are planning new adventures for the year ahead. And they are both scary and exciting. But that’s what makes life interesting, and interesting is what makes us feel alive.

Xx

Sharlene