Middlicious Mid-Lifer

There is a line in a Leo Tolstoy story that sends chills down my spine.
In the finale of the story the main character on his death bed, utters the question:
‘What if I have lived the wrong life?’
The horror of sensing that as one dies is, to me, too great to bare.

I am sitting in my office with the window open.
I can hear the birdsong outside as well as the joyful sounds of children playing. (My office looks out onto a school playground)

Both, in some way, bring me joy.

Joy.

A big word that has so much packed around it.

I have clothes in my wardrobe that I don’t wear, so they don’t get damaged.

True

I am actually embarrassed to admit it, however, doing so gives me permission to wear them. I came to that realisation this morning.
One of the books I am reading is about being a goddess and goddesses wear beautiful clothes. I am sure of that.
Middlicious women certainly do.

As I move further away from my younger years and deeper into mid-life, I am increasingly aware of something that is as important as being visible.
Being relevant.
In a world that celebrates the enthusiasm and energy of youth, remaining on top of what is trendy, what is out and what is in, can be a challenge.
Nothing can age someone more than being out of date and stuck there.

I’ve got wrinkles.
No matter what angle I look in the mirror, I have wrinkles.
My neck has definitely seen some years, and my hands look older than my mother’s (and she is 84).
Yep -I look my age.
OMG, I can hear the cries from the wilderness of the masses who want to defy ageing.
I cannot believe you would say that about yourself.
Well, I did.
And you know what.
I don’t feel any less powerful or gorgeous having done so.

  Some days I struggle to find my state of grace. That space where forgiveness lives, where softness sits quietly and where moving forward nudges you. That space where your heart resides and peace presents itself gently in its hands. … Read More