Stevie Nicks says she never had a family because she knew from a very early age that music would be her life. She’s in her 60s now, and music still defines her. I recently turned 60 and everything that had previously defined me went away. Not overnight, but slowly, over the last six months or so, the things that once made me who I am, or thought I was, disappeared. I’ve suddenly got a clean slate.
For most of my adult life I have been held aloft by four pillars: family, friends, teaching, and writing. One by one, I have seen these things that used to hold me up recede. They still stand, but apart from me, as if at a distance. I continue to love my family and friends, but they take far less room than before. There is an empty spot inside me now and it is not a bad thing. It feels spacious.
I no longer teach and even writing is on pause as I contemplate what my life, going forward, will look like. What will hold me up now that my children have children of their own and live thousands of miles away? Who will fill my days as friends move to warmer climates, travel to visit their own far-flung families, become hands-on grandparents or deal with aging parents, death and illness? What will replace my days as the lesson plans and students fall away and my writing feels tentative and not at all important?
None of this is exactly causing me distress. It feels natural, inevitable. But a question remains: what IS important to me now that I’m 60? Now that those outer pleasures cease to fulfill quite as effectively as before? I found a clue this past summer, although at the time it felt more like a blow. It was in fact a car accident that threw me into an uncomfortable place, somewhere I’d been before, somewhere I didn’t want to go again.
I felt a great need to escape. I wanted to leave every part of my life behind, but running away was not an option. I was in the middle of my final semester before retirement. I had not one but two grandchildren on the way, and this, even in my terror and sadness, was a wonderful thing, a shining full circle from the past when I had wanted, with every fiber of my being, to be a mother. Now my children were carrying on the tradition, passing on the genetic code. Such a sweet and satisfying feeling for me, but (obviously) infinitely more for them.
Then there was the novel I was writing. It decided to take a surprising turn, and, while the events of the plot shocked me, I stuck with it, even while my marriage of three decades eroded for reasons I found difficult to understand. Slowly, I worked out what was not working. Slower yet, we found our way back to each other. But it is different now. Everything is different. Because I am different. I think I am finally me. Not mom, not BFF, not teacher, not writer. Just Cindy. Who is she? What does she want? What does her sixty year old heart need to feel whole?
I have been looking for answers and found some surprising thing about this person I call my “self.” For example, I am capable of great pretense. I suppose that goes along with the fiction writing. For as long as I remember, there have been things I glossed over, pretended to like when I didn’t, pretended were okay when they weren’t, pretended made me happy when they did not. Learning this brought on a state of shock. To understand that my happy life had been a kind of lie I told myself was almost more than I could handle.
I spent months unpeeling the layers of my discontent, taking apart the components of my fear. And what I found was that I could not outrun fear. I could not control panic with pills. I could not manufacture a convenient contentment. But I could, if I scraped together some courage, face those fears. I could learn new habits, replace old ways with new scaffolding. Repair. Rebuild. Regenerate.
What does that even look like? I have no idea. I’ve been moving forward by instinct. Signing up for workshops, planning solo cross-country trips, acquiring a new desk. That desk was a clue. Maybe writing still had a place in my life. Maybe Stevie Nicks had a point. Perhaps it’s the inner life, the creative life, the secrets softly spoken to the self, that stay with us for a lifetime.
Cynthia Harrison 
I think your journey of Reflection has been so positive for you. It sounds like you have another path “less traveled” that is in store for you and when you follow it everything else from your past will make sense. I think it takes patience, an open heart, and a certain longing to find the path. Once you are fully committed to it everything else will fall into place and joy becomes the “by product” of the experience.
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I’m counting on it, Carol. I don’t regret my past, or not much of it, but I do look forward to … looking forward! Thanks for reading:)
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Today, attending a writing workshop, the speaker said, “Experience is the best teacher.” I disagreed. Reading your post it came to me why. Experiences are just experiences unless you learn from them AND act on it. Act on it and make changes, not repeat what doesn’t work any longer but have the courage to admit it and try on a different hat. The unexamined life is not worth living, a famous quote i would tattoo on my forehead if it didn’t hurt and be so darn unsightly. Congratulations, my friend. Your humility is courage wearing a different coat.
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Edith your kind words give me hope that the best really is yet to come and the courage to face –good or bad–whatever enters next.
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Glad to hear you are continuing your journey in a better mindset, as all too often it is easier to just cut and run from our problems. Sometimes it’s the only way to find a little peace, but at what cost to family and friends?
I hope your optimism continues and may peace find you again, Cindy.
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Thanks so much Anita. I know I have found many kindred souls here in this place that is no “place” and you are one of them!
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Glad to be counted Cindy, best wishes…
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Don’t forget to #MondayBlogs this one tomorrow!!! xx
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Good idea, Terry:) xo
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Cindy,
You have such a gift with words! You have had a lot of change in your life and as I am finding out ( recently being laid off) it is not always easy to adapt too.
After the passing of my Mother I became a Stephen Minister, a study of how to help others through trials in ones life. You would think I could help myself with this knowledge. Sometimes we just need another persons perspective on what we are dealing with. My go to is “God”! Through all of life’s struggles I.e. Marriage, infertility, adoption…God held me close to his heart and helped me face all my dilemma’s. I cannot emphasize enough on how powerful God’s Love is! I will be praying for God’s peace and love to embrace you Sis!
I love you as if you were my own biological sister. If ever you need an ear to listen or just someone to hang with…you have my number. You see, I am trying to fill the space I have in my life too. Going from being so busy your head spins, to a complete stand still, can be quite an adjustment! Love you Sis!
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Becky! I love you like a sister, too. One good thing about your having more time, you read my post! And commented!! That’s a first:) xo
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Ah yes, rebuild, repair, regenerate… the mind at 60 does this well. The body, not so well.
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Linda, lol:) I hear that. We’ve forgotten how to treat our bodies and the food industry has not helped. I like the whole idea of a clean slate, including clean eating. “Eat real food, not too much, mostly vegetables.” Easier said than done!
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Cindy, you are one together lady. I read your thoughts here and catch glimpses of what’s going on in your life on FB, and my recurring thought is how centered you are and how able to handle all that life offers/throws in your direction. You have my admiration.
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