What’s Next: Reflections on Midlife
I am 51, a woman past child-bearing years still waiting out my copper IUD.
I was a teacher. I am a mother. I am a widow. I am a writer and an artist and a baker.
After the pandemic my life has started to shrink just as it clears of the substantive obstacles that did not allow me the expansion I now have the opportunity to experience. Just in time for fear and anxiety and self-doubt and rampant hormones to rush in.
My grandmother turns 104 on November 21st, so based on those genetics I may just now be entering middle age.
50 more years of this? Really?
I am still trying to figure out the difference between acceptance and resignation.
In early October, I had a brief glimpse of what Life After Menopause might be like. With no real period since July 2nd, 2022 (but who’s counting?), I found myself in a four-week period of no anxiety, no hot flashes, real sleep. Energy. Peace.
Of course, I only realized what it was when the hormones and the hot flashes returned with a vengeance, pooling sweat between my breasts in the middle of the night and causing massive anxiety.
I find myself reading all the postings on the Cowboys for hire/Riding jobs page on Facebook, spelling errors and all.
Like this:
“Iso: payed summer wrangler/trail guide/ranch hand. Riding for fifteen years, starting for four, and just learning to rope. Give me directions, and you won’t have to repeat them twice. I understand the hard work behind each horse, the facility, and the mantaince of having more then one horse in your care, at home personally have a herd of ten (hence the short iso summer seasonal) and you can bet they get breakfast before me, and understand that is how this works. Can bring one or two finished horses or ride yours. Professional resume, riding videos, and references available. Looking Ideally in California or Utah.”
Or this one…
“Currently looking for a full time live in Ranch hand or hand at a dude ranch. I have a {redacted, but it’s a puppy} who is my bestfriend and will be relocating wherever I am. I have experience with horses from cleaning stalls and tack to basic training. I have a little bit of experience with cattle definitely not a pro but am willing to learn! I have experience with most farm birds from hatching to putting them in the freezer. I am not afraid of hard work, long hours, weather conditions. Willing to relocate from Washington state, pm me if I can answer any questions.”
I just joined the page yesterday, and I hate Facebook. I don’t use it for anything except a couple of yard sale pages, a writing group, and horse stuff, and it still enrages me from time to time, but I am entranced by the hopefulness of every post on this page. The possibility. The different kind of life that is ironically playing out on such a shitty platform.
There are husband and wife teams, high school students, aging vaqueros.
Some people have tons of experience; others are brand new and just want to learn.
Sometimes you get a brief glimpse into everything your life could have been if you had just made one or two different choices.
Sometimes when the hormone levels stabilize you can see what’s on the other side. And you can start to dream a little. Think about what might actually be next.
Of course, I have no desire to live to 104. That’s just too much.
But if this is just midlife, I am going to buy another horse, get a truck and trailer, and ride the west.
I’m going to build a cabin with my own two hands and go live in the woods.
I am going to stop writing for other people and pour my heart into poems about love and nature and birds and rain and sunshine.
And also about how I built that cabin.
I’m going to learn how to play an instrument, and then maybe write songs.
I’m going to live in Amsterdam for at least a month, maybe more.
I’m going to get another tattoo and shave my head bald if I cannot figure out how to go grey gracefully.
I turn 52 in March, and I’m ready to get serenely wild. Hang on, friends.
