The M Word

If you are over 40, you are middle-aged. How does that make you feel?

If you're anything like the women I've spoken to this week, not very good.

At a gathering yesterday, I told some friends about my project - creating a web-site and free newsletter for women over 40. But I used the phrase, "middle aged" women. You could almost see these women recoil.

It led to a very lively discussion about what the word meant to them.

My friend, T, said it makes her think that life up to this point has been like a slow steady climb. And just now, when we're feeling like we're at the top, the road takes a steep bend downwards and we go whizzing to the end.

J thought the word sounded old fashioned. That it didn't capture what it meant to be at this stage of life in this day and age.

My favorite response came from another woman via e-mail. She wrote, "...I don't define myself by being mid anything . . . .My life is more challenging, more successful, more demanding, more disappointing, more exciting, more spontaneous, more meaningful, more tiring, etc. etc. etc. "

I have been trying to desensitize myself to the word for some time. When I first had this awareness that I was "middle-aged", the experience felt like waking up after surgery to have a limb amputated. There was grief for all the firsts I'd never experience again. There was bewilderment about what the future is supposed to look like now. It felt tender and a little sad and I had to get my head around this new image of myself as someone at this age.

Most of my feelings came from the associations our society places on the word.

But as I started to notice what was happening in my life and in the lives of other women like me, I had a revelation. This isn't a bad thing. This is a great thing! If this is middle-age, then I love being middle-aged. But I don't feel like I'm in the middle. It feels more like the beginning.

And that's the best kept secret that you only find out once you get here. Far from being the middle, this is only the start of the journey. This is where it begins to get good.

The Focus Group

Tonight I held my first focus group with the intention of getting ideas for my new web-site and e-newsletter. Here's how it went . . . .

7:00 p.m. - Focus Group participants arrive.
7:05 p.m. - First glass of wine is poured and participants chat about their children, dogs and jobs. Secretly check out each other's outfits and haircuts.
7:15 p.m. - Participants demurely nibble on cocktail food and politely answer questions about new web-site and e-newsletter.
7:30 p.m. - Second glass of wine is poured.
7:45 p.m. - Participants offer opinions that start with "You know what I can't stand?"
8:00 p.m. - Noise level begins to swell.
8:15 p.m. - Participants are throwing back the peanuts and cocktail weenies. Participants are pouring their own wine.
8:30 p.m. - Husband asks moderator (me) and participants to keep it down a little. We laugh louder.
9:00 p.m. - Moderator has given up all hope of getting more data from participants. Priorities have shifted to opening more wine.
9:30 p.m. - Participants go home, assuring each other that this was the best time they've ever had and promising to participate in more focus groups.

It Started With The Clothes . . . .

It started with the clothes. Or lack thereof. I have always loved fashion, eagerly reading the thick fall issues of all the magazines. I shopped all the time and prided myself on knowing what was in, what was out and where to get the latest. But sometime during my early 40’s, things began to change. Slowly I started to notice that the offerings in my usual haunts just didn’t look right. Waistbands were way too low and why would I want to look ridiculous sporting a top with slashes up the sleeves.

There were other signs that change was afoot. I looked on as women I knew struggled under the burden of simultaneously caring for teenagers and aging parents. I watched as dear friends separated and divorced. And I laughed over coffee with other women while we discussed memory loss, hot flashes and how we couldn’t see things close up anymore. Then the realization hit me full force – I was middle aged!! Now what?

At first, I was depressed by the thought. Youth was good, age (middle or old) was bad, wasn’t it? And I didn’t feel middle-aged – whatever it’s supposed to feel like. I was fit, still wanted to dress well, still wanted new adventures and meaningful relationships. I still wanted to learn new things and engage my mind. For goodness sakes, I still wanted to try bungee jumping.. I still wanted people to notice me. But in our youth-obsessed culture, women like me didn’t seem to get a lot of attention.

So I started paying attention to what it's really like being a middle-aged woman today. And what I'm finding will sometimes excite you, depress you and sometimes shock you. Check in again for my on-going discoveries of life in the middle years.