Solitude. That’s been my gift to myself the last few birthdays.
Though it is distinct from loneliness, because it is a chosen, deliberate state of affairs, people still confuse it for depression. I can see why.
There is a bit of a twitch deep down for my hometown whenever I’m away from it too long. I miss my friends being within arm’s reach some days. But I can still reach all of them whenever I really need to, so my yearning for their company doesn’t feel like a grieving loss. It’s more like a loss of having convenience to them. And I think they still think of me - I get the sweetest rando messages a distant child of the Big Easy could hope for. I’m always grateful for this.
And yet…the peace I feel in this middle section of my existence (I’m 48 today) fills me with an ‘earned grace’ type of gratitude. I like parties and socializing and entertaining and such, but I’ve never needed any of it. To layer planning a party on the top of my 2024 exhaustion or pushing my natural introversion behind makeup, small talk and a bra was just unnecessary this year…again.
I know I’m loved. I just want to take my long river walk, cook some new recipe and pull out my unfinished screenplay binders and fiddle. Doing this slowly and with my work computer shut down gives me ‘boss-on-the-run’ butterflies. The joy I have now on days like today is mixed with a sneaky little guilt. I could have worked all day but work never ends anyway. I like how life is slowly slowing down enough for me to grasp it and control more of my time.
Ah, but maybe it’s just the menopause talking.
Time hits different now.
It's not just the hot flashes that come in waves, but awareness itself. My body's clock and my mind's clock seem to have synchronized in a way they never did before - both telling me to slow down, to notice, to inhabit each moment more fully.
The same hormones that are making me shed old patterns (and sometimes, quite literally, shed hair) are also stripping away pretenses. It's like menopause and midlife wisdom are co-conspirators in some grand scheme of authenticity.
The physical changes demand attention - they won't let you ignore your body's needs the way you could at 28 or even 38.
Now, when I need a nap, I NEED that nap.
And somehow, that forced attention has bled into everything else.
I find myself physically unable to maintain the old pace I kept up just to keep up. I'm psychologically unwilling to keep up activities and appearances even when those performances are so enjoyable or challenging. I’m angling away from achievement and more toward calm.
Is it menopause making me intolerant of my old schedule, or is it wisdom finally outweighing conditioning? Maybe they're the same thing - nature's way of saying "enough." The world tends to make midlifers fade into the background…now I’m wondering if that’s a good thing. We can still achieve impact from back here, but there’s less notions to jump up and scream. I think I like it.
The unfinished screenplays in my binders feel different now too. They're not projects to rush through, not anymore. They're conversations with myself that deserve the same patience I'm learning to give my changing body. The river walks aren't just exercise; they're a form of listening - to my joints (damn these knees), to my thoughts (there are several voices still in my head), to the rhythm that's emerging in this new phase of life (I’m excited about my witch in the woods retirement plan. I just want to move somewhere that FedEx can still deliver).
There's a peculiar freedom in this mix of menopause and mental-management. The same process that's reshaping my body's chemistry is reshaping my relationship with time itself. The hot flashes remind me I can't control everything; the wisdom whispers that maybe I don't need to. When I accept both of those, the fog clears right on up!
And perhaps that's the real gift of this midlife revival - the alignment of it all and the freedom you feel. My body is teaching me what my mind has long suspected: that there's power in surrendering to your own natural rhythm, even (and especially) when it runs counter to the world's expectations.
48 sun revolutions, it took me to know this. Time, am I right?