It’s All Just Weird

Every bit of it.

Weird.

Being in your 50s, that is.

I know I sound old. I know I just lost a few readers who perhaps thought I had the smallest smidgeon of relevance, and that’s ok, because that’s all weird, too.

There has been a lot on my mind lately that hasn’t been able to make its way to paper for whatever reasons, but this subject especially has been a tough one. Sometimes it’s just difficult to put words to something you feel but can’t explain, so you just keep putting it off. But right now I’m at work having a no-show, none of my co-workers are in today, I’ve dimmed the lights to make it cozy, and I have ten minutes to start this attempt at emoting. Lord only knows where this will go before it’s all over. I hope we all make it out ok.

I’ve spent a lot of time lately thinking about where I am in life. Not in a bad way, but just in a way. I know I’m more than half way done and I don’t like that. So the self-reflective, beat-myself-up analysis begins – what have I done with my life? Have I accomplished anything important? Have I given enough to those around me? Have I championed enough causes? I don’t think I did motherhood as well as I should have. I didn’t push my career as far as I could have. I didn’t pay enough attention to the people around me.

and on it goes.

So much I could have, and probably should have, done differently. But I didn’t and here I am. ‘Wallering’ in the mud, like a pig on a hot summer day after a thunderstorm. Covered in it.

I ran into a friendquaitance at the gym the other day and we had this same conversation. He’s feeling it, too. The Weird. And that’s the word we both used. Weird, huh? Anyhoo, he and I are the same age and we have lots of mutual friends and we’re all the same age, and we’re all feeling the weird. We also think it’s weird that we can’t exactly explain what the weird is. But life feels weird.

Maybe it’s just a culmination of things, realizations all hitting us between the eyes at once, a coming of age as it were, but we’re not necessarily enjoying the anticipation of what that age will bring. Life is good, now don’t get me wrong. We’ve become independent of our kids, our careers are good and maybe even coming to an end, and we go do what we want when we want to do it. But there’s been a shift.

Remember when we were in our 20s? Young and dumb (some of us moreso than others) and seemingly invincible. We thought we knew it all and were going to have it all, and nothing could stop us. Then our 30s happened. Our thirties quite possibly stopped us. The kids happened, the pets, the house, the cars, the jobs, and everything else that comes with a family. And it was amazing. And tiring. And we thought it was hard. It was the hardest thing we’d ever done, so certainly it’s the hardest thing we’ll ever do. Our 40s were a blur of kids leaving home for college, trying to figure out which direction we were going next, deciding to keep the pool or fill it in with dirt, still young enough to party if we wanted to but probably choosing to stay home instead.

And then our 50s.

At first it was a mix of “50 is hard to say out loud” and “back up world, I’m 50 now and you can’t beat me.” We were happy to be here, but freaked out at the same time. Realizing that 50 isn’t nearly as old as we thought it was when we were 20, but also realizing we’re so much closer to the end than the beginning. We dominated 50 and fifty-one and fifty-two. Maybe even all the way to 55. But then it all changed at 56. We thought our thirties were hard, but looking back now we see they were not so hard, they were just tiring. Our 50s are hard.

It’s not that 56 is the beginning of the downhill slide to 60; that’s barely been a consideration. It’s not that I can’t still run a mile or lift a weight or two. It’s not that my career is over or that I feel I’ve missed out on anything. It’s none of that. It’s just weird. Inexplicably weird.

Maybe it feels weird because everything is slowing down. Kind of like when you’re having one of those dreams where you’re running but it feels like your body is made of taffy and it’s being pulled really slowly as you run so you’re running really slowly but you’re trying so hard to run fast but you’re feeling like you’re made of taffy so you can’t and it is as exhausting as this run-on sentence makes it seem.

yeah, that. Everything is slowing down. Maybe that’s what drives the weird. Maybe that is what the foundation of the inexplicable is – the slowing down of me. Not of life, but of me. And I don’t like it. The short dive into it is that my body aches – 30 years on my feet wielding shears has had its way. My kid is off the payroll – I’m independent of him and it’s left a void. My parents are aging – I’m beyond blessed to still have them, but I can see our roles evolving. My career is booming – but my body can’t handle the boom like I used to. Projects don’t intrigue me as much as they used to. I no longer want to repair things, paint things, throw baby showers, organize weddings. I want to be the consultant. Share my knowledge, but only use my skills when absolutely necessary. Who knows, maybe it’s just the physical toll my career has had on me that has me in this place. Or maybe it’s just being 56. Whatever the case may be, I’m not ready to throw in the towel, I’m just ready to pace myself a little differently and see if the weird calms its happy little butt down. Or something like that.

Maybe The Weird is just the launching pad for what’s to come. Maybe the weird is meant to stir us up so that we don’t become complacent or irrelevant or think we’re too tired and need to go ahead and be put out to pasture. Maybe I need to embrace The Weird, become one with it, be its best friend.

So, if I were to actually do that, what would I actually do?

For starters, I’d write more. It’s ironic to me that this is my 100th blog post. It’s taken me 17 years to get here. That kind of takes the wind out of the sails of celebrating a milestone like 100. But here I am all deep in The Weird, writing my 100th post.

For seconders, I’d pay more attention to our house. But that would require me to implement my thirders, which would be to cut back my work hours. And if you know me, you know how that will go.

For fourthers, I’d exercise more. I’ve let that one slip a little and I don’t like it. Time to ramp it back up at least a smidge.

For fifthers, I’d let myself be ok with The Weird. I mean really ok. Look it square in the eye and give it a run for its money.

Then probably go take a nap.

And look. Don’t go thinking I’m having some kind of existential crisis. I’m not. I’m just perplexed. And it’s not like that is anything new. I stay perplexed. But this perplexion is just a little new and different. And not like a new car or new diamond ring, but like a new pop in my hip that didn’t used to make this noise but now everybody in the gym can hear it when I do that leg machine so maybe I’ll just go over here to the old lady section of the gym and do some chair yoga so I don’t finish breaking that hip.

or something like that.

I don’t know.

It’s all just weird.