Category Archives: Aging Well

The Gift My Mom Held

Recently I had coffee with my friend who has had a few more years of experience as a retired empty nester than me. I knew her, sort of, many years ago because our husbands ran together. We recently became reacquainted because our husbands now lunch together in a club that meets weekly. She makes me laugh and, without intending to, gives me something interesting to think about in between our coffees. She’s very big sisterly, which is comfortable and familiar to me, as I have four natural big sisters.

She’s a huge supporter of my writing, which I have done very little of lately. I sort of did a detour to figure out some lingering post-menopausal symptoms, leading me to a very interesting discovery: I have “Mixed type” ADHD, which means I can be either hyperactive or inattentive at times. It turns out our hormones have an enormous influence over our brain’s ability to regulate dopamine – the motivation “juice” that also provides support with impulsivity, emotional and sensory regulation and executive function (planning, focus, memory and task completion). To learn at age 60 that my brain has been operating without the ability to regulate dopamine – the “adult magic sauce” we all need to appear adultlike – has been shattering and empowering at the same time. The great news is I am on a good medication that is helping me alot while I learn as much about the neurodivergent female brain from literature and various chat groups of other “late life diagnosis” people.

I am suddenly discovering the motivation to do one of the things my friend has suggested: go digging through my boxes of memories and mine them for writing project ideas. Today, I opened the attic door and picked a box to go through. At the top of the box was an envelope labeled in my Mom’s handwriting :” “Joan – very special.” Inside are dozens of hand and typewritten stories and plays I began writing at age 9. Today I am going to share the first one I grabbed because, if I must say so myself, I am utterly gobsmacked by the cleverness and fluency of this little story, probably written in 1976 when I was ten. Here goes:

The Talking Horse

One night I was listening to Mom tell me a story about a talking horse “Good night” said Mom. “Good night” I said. Mom went out of the room and closed the door. Just then I saw something climbing up on my window sill and it was a horse.

“Hello” said the horse.

“Hello” I said. I was shocked that the horse could talk.

“My name is Socks.” “Well, my name is Lynda.”

“Hi Lynda” said Socks.

“Hi Socks” said Lynda. “What did you come for?” I asked.

“I have a problem and I need someone to solve it” said Socks.

‘What is your problem Socks?” I wanted to know.

“Well this might sound silly” Socks started “but I want to be king of the jungle but lion won’t let me.”
“Who came up with this idea?” I asked.

“Well you see I go to Horses’ Lib” said Socks, “and we decided that horses had a right to be king of the jungle so they voted for me and I asked lion if he would please give up his job and he said no.”

Screenshot

“I get it” said Lynda “you want me to go to the jungle with you and you want me to ask the lion if you can be king of the jungle.”

“That’s right” said Socks.

So the two of them went to the jungle. When they got to the jungle Socks led Lynda the way to lion’s house. Lynda started to go in.

“Good luck” said Socks.

“Hello” Lynda said in a nice voice.

The lion looked up and said “What do you want? Go away.”

“But wait” Lynda said. “It will only take me a minute to ask you if Socks can be king of the jungle.”

“No” the lion said meanly and he got so angry that he started packing his clothes, and he came out of his house with a big suitcase and said “I’m moving to Boston.”

So Socks got to be king of the jungle after all.

The End.

I mean, how could I not publish this childhood treasure immediately? Stay tuned for more. I’m so grateful to my Momma for keeping my little junior writing projects all together in one place. It’s a beautiful Mother’s Day gift she has given to me from heaven.

I’m 60. My People are my Metric

This past weekend, Valentine’s Day came and went but this year there is “something extra” to celebrate: contentment. Contentment is a place available to anyone yet so often missed in our human desire to achieve “just one more goal.” Simply stated, my husband’s words in this year’s Valentine capture the essence: “I’m only where I am in this sweet time of life because of you.” If this is not what every life partner would love to hear I don’t know what is. Obviously, together we navigated to our current state of contentment.

There have been years of the journey that felt like I was standing still while my family steadily moved outward into the world. I felt resentment and weathered a constant internal dialogue wrongly asserting I had no ambition, was not worth much since my resume and LinkedIn were a bit of a hot mess. At 60, I clearly see I chose a life without metrics of success: no big paycheck, bonus, awards, promotions, certifications or other external markers of success and advancement. I have invested every year of this sweet life in creating a harmonious home. I said it and wrote it and lived it – call me a 1950’s housewife if you wish. I’m humbled by and proud of my life choices and I think there are two additional souls wandering this Earth who are living to their fullest capacity because I spent years quietly and steadfastly standing still while they grew.

In the past 6 months, I have watched my children soar in adulthood, both confidently making choices that align with their wishes and values. There has been grief for me, unquestionably, and terrible fear that the best part of my life has ended. I’m getting support to chart the next chapter for myself but oh my, this beautiful time demands a pause to soak in and enjoy its full meaning.

It is not truthful that, because I have no career to point to, I have wasted any time. I got sober in my fifties, a hard won battle that I openly let my family witness (and support). This is not nothing! My children learned by watching my journey to sustained sobriety that sometimes people need to be vulnerable in order to grow. Setbacks are merely “repositioning points” in life and from anywhere you can choose to move forward. What’s important is the love we discover, nurture, embrace and share. And yes, it’s messy sometimes. I really hope my life has modeled “progress over perfection” for my loved ones. It takes courage to show discomfort and fear and this gets no easier, I am learning, as we age.

So, hello 60, it is wonderful to meet you. To arrive at this place with contentment is the greatest joy imaginable. My people will continue to be my metrics of success – but I plan to do a little less “standing still” this decade!

The Distance Between True Friends

Yesterday I had coffee with a friend I met at one of my dozen or so jobs I have had in the past decade. We had not seen one another since my long period of sadness, loss and grief. 90 minutes after spending time in Stephanie’s company, I felt like my old self again! The striking similarities between our menopausal experiences and ultimate arrival at the liberating “I do not care anymore” stage of womanhood made me feel more connected to life than I have in months. Literally, Stephanie, you brought me back to life! That’s the wonderful thing about friendship: to find in another person a real sense of comfort and familiarity that lasts over time is the greatest gift.

This morning, still bolstered by the sisterhood of laughing with Stephanie, I am reminded of my special friends in the pediatric rehabilitation program I worked in for a couple of years. “B,” with his sweet and dedicated Occupational Therapist, worked on this drawing depicting the distance between himself and me. The day they gave this to me I knew I would laminate it and keep it forever. Those friendships with children with disabilities and their caregivers/therapists are among the most sacred I have ever known in my life. I think I became delighted with “B” from day one because he looked me soulfully in the eyes and always made it clear he was completely contented just to be near me. No distance between us.

I have realized that I am one of those “Gen X” girls with ADHD who was never diagnosed. I have stumbled through life feeling ashamed of my lack of organizational and time management skills, and have often felt humiliatingly confused by “hidden cues” people give in the social-emotional realm. For example, I had a friend I thought I connected with beautifully, only to discover she had been “growing tired of” me for months and ultimately took to her social media to proudly declare to her followers that she had recently “downgraded someone from friend to acquaintance” without ever speaking to them (ME!). I reeled from confusion, shame, anger and utter disbelief from this experience for more than a year. Because I have ADHD, I do not let go of things as easily as “neurotypicals” so this hurt cut me deeply in ways that surprised me. After practicing a lot of lovingkindness (from the great meditation teacher Sharon Salzberg), I am learning to separate experiences from my feelings about them and thereby release shame I often feel for “not getting the point” as soon as neurotypical people!

Then there is sweet “B” and darling Stephanie who validated every experience we talked about over coffee. I have felt so alone in the middle believing there were no friends who would be willing to meet me there. “B” even graphically depicted his willingness to meet me all the way at my doorstep. And no “complicated cues” or backstabbing social media posts, just presence and contented kinship. “B” could teach a lot of people about friendship, and maybe this is the writing opportunity I have been looking for.

For now, I am grateful for the moments of authentic recognition and respect I share with my friends. As far as my “downgraded acquaintance status,” as stinging as those words were spoken by someone I cared for and trusted, I am happy to report that you can downgrade me, baby, but you will never find me downcast. I am too busy laughing with “B,” Stephanie and the handful of kind souls in my life. Friends are a blessing to enjoy, not a puzzle or conundrum to sort out.

Love, my beautiful little undiagnosed but lovable ADHD heart

Decisions, Devotion and Destiny

Today marks two years since my Mom passed away. I still hear her voice but her singularly calming, practical presence is missing. Her bluntly honest remarks often caught people off guard or made them laugh (if not a little bit uncomfortably). I don’t know too many people who are both blunt and smart. Generally, I just feel disappointed with the world and miss Mom especially because her confidence and clear communication was always one thing I knew I could rely on in this world.

I have become permanently impatient with people who are reluctant to make decisions – or more precisely – accept responsibility for making them, when it seems like such an important time to respond to the urgency in our world. The last 3 jobs I have held all curiously presented the same set of frustrations: people “in charge” who wanted authority but either had no desire, impetus or wisdom to exercise their authority. I would bring important issues to leaders that impacted my day to day (and would result in wasting resources if left spinning indecisively) only to be pushed off for some future date when making a decision would become clearer for them. What? I remember thinking, “Dude, you are literally being PAID to make DECISIONS. Like, that’s your JOB!” as I walked away in frustration. But the universe continued to present this frustrating set of circumstances to me over a period of several years in jobs I grew to strongly dislike – so there must be a good reason, eh?

I have concluded that this lesson repeatedly appeared in my work life because there was something else I needed to be doing. Primarily, listening to my own voice and cultivating the “meaning” that I found so disappointingly missing elsewhere – within myself. As a woman approaching 60, it’s fair to say I have spent two decades devoted to my family. Not just the person who made sure tasks were completed – but real, geniune, from the heart devotion – the kind you feel towards your first love. As an empty nester, I’m still very devoted to children. On this rainy morning of the anniversary of my Mom’s death, I just returned from delivering a birthday package and cake from Birthday Connections to a child in need who currently lives in a domestic violence shelter. I feel really good about having the privilege to be in a place in my life where I can play a small role in uplifting another person and be true to something I feel devoted to in my heart. I think Gen Z’ers would call this “Alignment.”

A new friend of mine surprised me yesterday with a “Yahrzeit” candle – a memorial candle in the Hebrew tradition to light on the date of a loved one’s passing and keep lit for 24 hours of remembering, honoring the deceased, performing acts of charity in their memory, etc. I had already intentionally chosen to volunteer today for Birthday Connections as a way to honor my Mom, who successfully nurtured and raised seven children. But the Universe really wanted me to “get” this lesson, so my friend Shelly, who has experienced much loss, generously opened her heart and gifted me this beautiful and gentle tradition. I am so grateful and deeply comforted by her kind act. In the Christian tradition, lighting a candle is a form of “devotion” – recognizing the sacred in another person and memorializing their goodness through prayer and remembrance. It isn’t even noon yet and already I can say I have fulfilled the mission of this day – and will spend the next several hours in gratitude and restful contemplation.

We are all born to discover our unique gifts. As Ralph Waldo Emerson beautifully writes in an essay:

“Rings and jewels are not gifts, but apologies for gifts. The only gift is a portion of thyself. Thou must bleed for me. Therefore the poet brings his poem; the shepherd, his lamb; the farmer, corn; the miner, a stone; the painter, his picture; the girl, a handkerchief of her own sewing.”

The gift of intentionally (decisively) honoring my Mom’s memory today and practicing devotion in her memory by supporting a local child in need brings me to my final thought – my destiny. I honestly am starting to believe that my destiny in life is to be a “feeler of big feelings” and conduit for people who may not recognize or articulate their own. In other words, I’m the uninhibited person in the room who will say something awkward that is maybe cringe but also funny – and potentially touches another person’s heart so that healing can begin. So far, I have been fortunate to be able to recognize mostly good things from the painful experiences I have had in life. And without fail, honest and good-hearted people have met me along the way to help me make sense of recent losses and pain.

I will conclude with a thought about recovery. Lately I have been thinking that I have not been very “emotionally sober,” even though I do not drink alcohol anymore to survive big feelings. There have been a couple of major losses in a short period of time in my life and many days, I find myself “growling” at the world instead of living in gratitude and bowing in reverence towards my good fortune. This is why I am considering going back to a 12-step recovery program and actively working the steps of AA. An old friend has recently reappeared in my life and kindly offered to accompany me as I start this journey over – in search of emotional sobriety. Rolf Gates, a brilliant yoga instructor and recovery writer, writes in his “Daily Reflections on Addiction, Yoga, and Getting Well”:

“Much of early recovery was like finding the bodies trapped in the snow after an avalanche. Frozen in their last moments – new boots, worn parkas, bits of scarf. My sadness was overwhelming. My 12-step sponsor, Henry, knew this about me. He was kind to my sorrow. There were no answers for what broke my heart. There was no getting any of it back….

….Henry would look at some broken part of my life, lift an eyebrow, and drawl, “what is was like.” We would laugh until tears came to our eyes at what it was like and would be no more.

Reflection:

Life has put people in your life who have not been afraid of your sadness. Thank them with your heart. Maybe thank them in person. Who has helped you laugh the laugh of freedom?”

The people who are appearing in my life who are not afraid of my sadness are helping me heal and discover new ways to use parts I have previously discarded and labeled “broken.” To me, this is a destiny worth fighting for and enjoying.

I have noticed

There are a lot more wrinkles on my face and I have a lot less motivation to do anything about it;

The months drift along like a river, offering days to be gentle and moments to be determined and focused, either way, doing nothing and doing something – the river roils about its business;

Truly delighting in the company of another is the closest we come to our best, fully human nature, and spending too much time alone causes our hearts, souls and minds to atrophy;

Choosing what not to worry about is possibly the most important distinction we make between living and dying;

Letting go brings multitudes of joy and illumination, if you can withstand the temporary pain of shedding an attachment to an illusion;

Gentleness is the greatest manifestation of strength, if only the mind would allow our heart to lead;

These photos depict 2 days of my life 25 years apart – delighting in the company of my baby daughter and cuddling with my new kitten, both moments weaving together a life of savoring what might otherwise be forgotten;

I was telling friends our parenting challenges and the many ways institutions devised to “track progress” and label your child’s productivity but the best parenting advice we ever received was simply to strive to remain connected to the humans we cared for;

Staying connected and seeking ways to make the puzzle pieces fit seems a much better framework for moving through pain toward oneness to me;

Back to the wrinkles, the subject of nearly daily dread and obsession – shouldn’t I be more focused on the smile and sparkle of the eyes, those seem to be the same and they are the best measure of a life well lived;

Remembering love is a far richer use of the time I have left on this Earth than counting heartaches and insults – why not begin again today?

Hello, Whimsy!

In 2 weeks, I will celebrate TEN YEARS SOBER!! Getting sober was the single most impactful (and difficult) thing I have done in my life. I have 10 years of supporting evidence that I will not bore you with, you will just have to trust me. TRUST is the operative word because before I got sober, I had forgotten how to trust myself. Walking through life distrusting one’s own impressions, intuitions, thoughts and feelings can lead to long-term nervous system dysregulation and persistent and extreme feelings of anxiety, burnout and depression. This was my life off and on, even during periods when I was not binge drinking, for 40 years.

Shackled to my own perceptions of existential threats, I once experienced life as a daily pop quiz for which I was unprepared. Why didn’t I trust myself and my own unique strengths and capabilities? How could a person ever learn to hang their self image on the validations of others? I think you have to begin teaching children in early childhood ways to reassure themselves that they are safe and supported. Allowing self-expression of “big emotions” instead of punishing disruptions in the day helps children learn that, even though they are not “big people,” their fears, needs and feelings are valid, important and worth pausing with a safe adult to co-regulate. This was unheard of in the 60’s, 70’s and 80’s when I was growing up. So dysregulated people often reached for ways to numb those big feelings they never learned to trust and process. Hi, my name is Joan, and I’m an alcoholic.

10 years ago I did not have this clarity about how I had developed such a dysfunctional relationship with alcohol. I only knew that if I did not find sustainable recovery, my family was doomed and I would forever regret it. Self-blame came second nature to me, so I just assumed I was a weak and flawed human, incapable of “controlling” my alcohol intake, so I first stepped into recovery full of guilt, self-loathing and shame. Not very pleasant or motivating emotions to sustain recovery, to say the least.

If I have learned anything these past ten years it is this: you absolutely cannot hate yourself into changing. Long term, sustainable recovery from addiction requires lovingkindness towards oneself – it’s like building a real foundation of stone instead of pretty rainbows that can vaporize the moment the atmosphere changes.

To create a loving space for myself to understand and change the ways I have sought safety from my own fears and anxieties through alcohol and in unhealthy relationships, the best tool I have discovered is practicing mindfulness. Buddhist meditation and mindfulness/lovingkindness teacher Sharon Salzberg talks about “add ons” – all the mental and emotional fears, biases, beliefs that we overlay onto our present experience, in a talk she gave to to the Mindfulness Association called “Look for the Add Ons”:

“One classical meaning of mindfulness is a quality of awareness where our perception of what’s happening in the present moment is not distorted by bias. So old fears, old habits, projections into the future – whatever it may be – may well arise – but they don’t take over. A very common one would be something like feeling a physical pain or heartache and immediately thinking, “What’s it going to feel like in ten minutes? What’s it going to feel like in a week? What’s it going to feel like in a month?” So we are not only experiencing the actual distress of now – but we are now adding all that anticipation to it, often feeling just overcome and defeated. And giving up. So it’s not that the pain feels glorious. And it’s not that the impulse to add on will rise, but it need not take over. ” She goes on to tell a story of a time she was teaching with Joseph Goldstein when a person described tension they felt in their jaw and concluded that they would “I am an incredibly uptight person and always have been and always will be. And I have never been able to get close to people and it will never change.” Joseph responded, “You mean you felt a lot of tension in your jaw. Why are you adding a miserable self-image to a painful experience? ” In this exchange, Joseph Goldstein kept reminding the man of his experience in this moment, only to be met by ever more elaborate stories (add-ons) by him. He concludes, “It is geniuinely painful to feel the tension in your jaw. But on top of that, you are now going to be alone for the rest of your life.”

“In mindfulness meditation, we look for the add-ons. We look for what might be added on to the direct experience and see if we can relinquish the hold of those add-ons. It’s not that they won’t arise, they won’t be tempting – but they needn’t take over.”

I was 49 years old when I decided to get sober and my children were 14 and 16. It was a very busy time in our household. My husband was working hard re-building his law practice after an 8-year hiatus. My daughter was exploring her independence as a new driver with friends I did not know very well. And my son was struggling with his own anxiety and depression and desperately needed a healthy, attentive, responsive caregiver. I told my AA sponsor more than once, “How can I take care of myself right now when my family needs ALL of me?” It seemed insurmountable to do both. “Take care of yourself first and the rest will fall into place,” she repeated to me hundreds of times. This was counterintuitive to me and required a leap of faith. I felt enormous guilt for “being flawed” and “inadequate.” Those feelings, I discovered many years later became huge add-ons. Just because in the moment I was feeling flawed and inadequate, I made the hugely illogical conclusion that I was permanently incapable of changing. That’s not a great mindset for quitting alcohol, let me tell you!

Like this beautiful lilac bush that was once a tiny sapling from the Wal-Mart garden center I had forgotten I had even planted in the home we left behind in 2010, little by little, and with lots of practice and support, I started to grow and feel better. When I look at this photo my friend Lorna recently shared to show me its progress (current resident of the country home we build and lived in when the children were very young), it strikes me that is is a metaphor for my life emerging from addiction into sobriety. Looking at it I see a hint of the whimsy I so enjoy about life. And it brings me back to my purpose in life: to enjoy the beauty of each moment and attempt to capture some of that whimsy for those I love.

You can’t experience whimsy if you are stuck in the weeds of add-ons, afraid to feel your feelings in the moment, knowing that they will always rise and fall and throughout, you will be okay. I see today how narrowly I escaped never feeling whimsy again had I not listened to my inner voice urging me to find a better way to live 10 years ago. Whimsy is essential to living a full life.

“People who are full of whimsy are odd, but often fanciful and lovely,” (according to Google!). I like home best with my dog, cat and family, nestled in by the fire with pretty lights and books. Simple joys bring lasting comfort and don’t require wine.

How did things turn out for my family, ten years after the turbulence that led to my decision to get sober? Beautifully. Somehow, with lots of support, I was able to simultaneously take care of myself and my family and give them what they needed. We are close and loving and enjoy laughing together. Whenever one person is hurting, we all feel it and find ways to support one another. My lifelong dream of building a happy family is fulfilled. As I approach my 60’s as a sober person, I plan to make whimsy more of a priority. This could show up as homemade jam I gift friends and family or a day trip to visit Clydesdale horses “just because.” I don’t take it for granted – this whimsy has been hard earned!

The work and the whimsy will continue. I am hoping they yield entertaining stories to share with the world.

A Dream of Trees – Grateful.org

Happy Tuesday!

There is a thing in me that dreamed of trees,/A quiet house, some green and modest acres/A little way from every troubling town,/A little way from factories, schools, laments…
— Read on grateful.org/resource/a-dream-of-trees/