Tag: aging

Awkward Stage

A couple of weeks ago, I took my eldest son and my daughter who is my youngest child to lunch (I call them my Alpha and my Omega).  We went to a restaurant I had never been to before that is known for its nightly shows and bands.  When I asked our waiter what show he would recommend, he looked at me and without a stutter he said, “Oh, definitely Throwback Thursday.  My mom loves that show.”  Ouch.

Now, he was right.  I am definitely old enough to be his mom.  And I love 80s/90s music, because that’s the music I was brought up on, but ugh, I didn’t want him to notice that fact.  I didn’t want him to look at me and think “Throwback.”

I think that I’m at that awkward stage of my Second Half of Adulting.  It’s similar to the one I went through in my First Half of Adulting, when I was just a preteen.  That first awkward stage involved being stuck between being a kid and being a young adult.  The big dilemma at that stage was, “Do I still want to play with my toys or do I want to kiss boys?”  The second awkward stage is coming to the acceptance that the stuff that I like is starting to be considered a little “outdated”, but not old enough to be considered “retro and cool.”  The second awkward stage is the awakening to the fact that I’m not necessarily part of the mover/shaker crowd anymore.  The marketers and the trend watchers are more interested in what my kids are buying and doing than in me anymore.  And there’s a conflict because I’m not sure I want to move out of the First Half of Adulting.  I still have two kids at home and unfortunately, retirement seems quite far away, but I’m starting to not fit in with the First Halfers anymore either.

It’s subtle changes you notice when you are moving out of your First Half of Adulting. It’s like when you see the Barbie you played with as a kid, now in the window of an antiques store, or you start realizing that you don’t really know who 85% of the people on the cover of the gossip magazines are anymore.  The frequency of being called “Ma’am” goes up a notch.  Last year I had a part-time job where I shared a cubicle area with a couple of millennial women.  We were talking about weekend plans and I said that my husband and I were going to Hall and Oates.  My coworker said, “Oh cool, is that an island?”

The Second Half of Adulting is still new to me.  So, it’s hard to “own it” with confidence.  I know that my husband and I could not pull off Hipster with any kind of grace.  Tattoos, nose piercings, pink streaked hair, woolly beards and beanies aren’t part of our middle aged comfort zone.  But at the same token, I’m not ready to shop for retirement communities yet, either.  It’s funny how life cycles around.  I never dreamed I’d have to go through another “awkward stage” but I guess these are the stages in life that you must go through to figure out what you really want next.  You get so uncomfortable with being uncomfortable, that you finally accept your new role, your new place in society with confidence.  You’re the “record player” now because you’re cool again.  And you never stopped being a record player, it’s just that you’ve stopped apologizing for being a record player and you’ve stopped trying to turn into Spotify.   With your new self confidence and self worth, people remember that you’ve always been pretty amazing and that that you still have an important role to play, it’s just shifted a little. And maybe that’s not so bad.

Just. This.

We went to the beach yesterday.  We are fortunate enough to live near to the beach and it was the perfect beach day.  It was the kind of day where there was enough cloud cover to keep the sun from pelting down on you and enough wind to keep you cool but not enough to stir up any storms.

We didn’t always live near to the beach.  We moved here seven years ago and when we first moved here, we truly understood how lucky we were to live near to the beach and we took advantage of it every chance that we got.  Then after a couple of years in, living near to the beach lost its novelty and it became familiar.  It was something that was always there for us in the background, like an aged dog or like that shiny, new basketball headboard or swimming pool or fancy jungle gym in the backyard that loses its luster as the kids get older.  Of course, on occasion I would panic that we had lost our appreciation for living near to the beach and I would spout out guilt-wrenching edicts at the dinner table.  “We used to spend thousands of dollars to go to beaches like the ones we have practically in our own backyard!  We are going to the beach tomorrow and we are going to like it and we are going to appreciate it!”  There is nothing like “forced fun” to bring a family closer.  Ha!

I am particularly sensitive about taking things for granted right now, with my son freshly out of the nest.  So when my husband suggested a long stroll on the beach, I jumped on it.  We went to our local beach which is actually a beautiful island.  It is a state park so there are no condos, surf shops or blow-up water slides.  We took a 2.5 mile hike out to the secluded top tip of the island and we rounded the corner to the little cove where people anchor their boats and everyone just floats.

There is a big movement right now about staying in the “now”, in the present moment.  When I can do it, when I can stay in the “now”, it makes so much sense.  The now is peaceful, it is a gift, it is the only thing that we truly have, but of course, staying in the now takes practice and concentration and more often than not I am haranguing myself for past mistakes or worrying about future ones.  So when we first arrived at the beach and started our walk, I was beating myself up for not coming to the beach more often, especially with summer more than half over.  But then something magical started happening and I think the beach is a particularly good setting for magic.  Walking on the warm, giving sand, listening to the gulls and the tide coming in and out, watching a kite in the distance stay happily floating in the air, like the people in the water, floating easily on the top of the buoyant salt water, I fell into a meditation taught to me many years ago.  It’s a simple meditation.  Breathe in deeply.  Just.  Breathe out all worries and concerns and grief.  This.  Breathe in. Just.  Breathe out. This.  Just. This.  Just this.

I try to put so much thought and meaning and purpose into everything that I think I often miss the whole point.  It is becoming more and more obvious, the older that I get that the point is probably just to experience it all,  experience all the magic, beauty and perfection, even when it doesn’t feel like perfection.  Just this. It’s a beautiful, simple meditation and it may be all that we need.