Women called it “pause.” It is a new perspective coming into view in every woman’s major life passage: A midlife agitation, literal and poignant. First, the gushing, like the reddening of a dying tree as it blazes out in the funeral autumn, and now reduced to basics, forced to lie fallow…in an emptiness watered by tears over the surrender of the magical powers of birthing and reliable breeder.
Like some powerful switch had been thrown, the little bouts of blues in a fog of indeterminate sadness then little crashes of fatigue, and having counted on abundant energy, it was profoundly to find one self crawling home from a day of writing and falling into the nearest sofa for a nap — only to wake up dancing around an unexplained depression.
The normal preamble to this malaise is sometimes treated with a casualness, bordering on the criminal doesn’t lift or dissipate for days. Will it be permanent mellowing – a permanent anything, or simply an erratic activity playing mischief with a womans equilibrium — or is it all in their minds? Or perhaps is it mostly because of a looseness of termination of subjective flaws?
There are the periods of magnificent energy and acute mental functioning, even brilliance, when one was never tired, producing like crazy going through the temporary phenomenon. After spending five decades of filling this life in the interstices of the children and husbands lives with a sense of unease or disequilibrium, it is something women feel like enduring hormonal mischief cycles. With the spiritual energy of fully evolved women, who are beyond being objects defined by the male gaze, they find distinctive charm and beauty, disciplined intellect, cultivated and manifold gifts celebrate within themselves.
The transition in their lives change had become, for most of them; physically, emotionally and spiritually the best she ever was.
In my own odyssey, I was so sure I would just sail right through it. Instead, I veered (like most of us) off course, lost some of the wind in my sails and almost capsized throw in widowhood.
But I realized women who no longer belong to somebody now belong to everybody. The community, a chosen circle of friends, a worship group, or even the world as source of experience and wisdom.
I started by giving up the futile gallantry of trying to remain the same younger self, and reach a new plateau of contentment and self-acceptance…and find a potent new burst of energy.
Take the “pause” as liberation. After my liberation from keeping four long legged daughters filed up, the empty nest did not leave me feeling useless and lacking in self concept — but with relief or relish!
One of the girls asked – “Mother, what are you going to do with yourself now that we’re all gone?” I said, “Baby, I don’t know, but count on it…I am going to have fun!”
***
E-mail Mylah at [email protected]
