Today, I heard some words that struck me.  I was at the end of a Pilates class and as we were doing our final physical check-ins, the teacher noted that if things feel worse at the end of a session, then you need to change levels – that you need to stop fighting the movements and think about how it feels for you rather than what you are trying to achieve effort wise. 

Maybe all this chaos in midlife is a way of stirring up the dust not to make it more difficult to be successful but to actually facilitate success.

In midlife, we pause, we push, we pull apart, but how often do we ask ourselves how is it feeling for us?  Especially moms who have spent a big part of their adulthood raising children, holding down a job, keeping it all together and looking like it is effortless.  What are we trying to achieve effort wise?  For many of us, it is perfection.  Perfect spouse, perfect friend, perfect mom.  If things feels worse at the end of a session, then you need to change levels.

When was the last time I asked myself how it felt for me?  When did I even come into the equation?  Why would I when perfection is an endless run on a long road with no breaks.  It’s being happy when you are not, it’s denial and depravation and loneliness and judgement.  I have come to realize that midlife is the perfect time to change levels, or at least check in and come face to face with out emerging selves.

How does it feel for you?  Is it time to stop fighting the movements?

I was an English major.  English.  I used to tell myself that it was great being an English major.  Where else could you get art, history, philosophy and psychology all rolled into one?  Now I wonder why didn’t anyone pull me aside to tell me that it would take me nowhere.  

I made decisions based on what felt good:  I studied English, I volunteered, I traveled, I took low-paying public service jobs.  I felt great.  I got married, started a family, got the minivan and had it all.  That was my 30s.  40s hit and I realized I was low-paid, burnt out, and not needed as much by my family, oh,  and the minivan broke down.  Retirement was now closer than college and I wasn’t as young and cute as the rest of the world seemed to be.  I hit a wall.  I quit my job.  I started looking for myself again.

I haven’t found her.  What I have found is a bunch of skills no longer needed at this stage of motherhood:  spotting an uncovered light socket, always having cheerios and baby wipes on hand, car entertainment, silly faces, voices and jokes, sunscreen and colorful sunglasses.

Now I am reduced to the drive by drop off, an early bedtime (for me), long walks with my dog alone, teen vocab I don’t understand and the pure judgment of my every move by those who once thought I was magical.

Midlife so far has been a disappointment.  The rollercoaster has stopped on top of the hill and I have seen the whole park, now it seems a quick, terrifying decent into twists and turns: grey hair, aches and aging, comfortable shoes and a very untrendy, practical wardrobe.

I am an English major amongst Chief Listening Officers, App developers and Sustainability Experts 

What is one to do?  I read all the articles: 5 tips, 7 ways, 4 things to do but they don’t have my answers.  In a world where “what do you do” is a leading social question, I have failed.  What do I do??  What DO I do?  What do I do next?  I know what I have DONE, but it doesn’t translate to the future.  It doesn’t give me confidence.  It gives me shivers.  How do I keep going?  How do I make it fresh again?  Can I?  How do I reinvent myself?

So far I am disappointed in midlife.  It sucks.

My life has been the most unstable career wise its ever been this year.  The inspirational quotes that say “when you jump you fly” forget to say “or you fall”.  I have experienced the second this year.  I chose to leave a solid job of more than a decade because the new head of the company decided I was not a good cultural fit.  She didn’t know me or what I was capable of, but I think my exploratory, passionate, ask why personality did not fit in well with her structured, process, policy and procedure type of world.  I get it. In that arena, I probably am a liability. So I chose to leave.

I pursued other interests for a while, but nothing was really more than a hobby and the thought of making a living on them just seemed too far off.  So I caved and returned to the workforce, only this time I picked up a 130 mile commute.  Better fit, but 15 hours a week I was in the car.  Unfortunately, when you live 65 miles from the nearest big city, this is reality.  But another opportunity came up recently where it was closer to home and the hours seemed great.  I was eager to jump in and start.

I worked a notice and a week later I jumped in with both feet to this new job.  Three days in I was told I was not a good cultural fit.  Five days in, I left.

What does cultural fit mean? Why can’t I fit in?

In midlife, I have experiences and skills, I want to walk in an make a difference.  I am able to take what I have learned and translate it into a new arena.  So why is it so hard to find a place to do this?  Maybe it’s them.  Maybe it’s me.  Damn, I still need dental insurance.

It’s so hard not to take midlife personally.  Kids get older and don’t need you as much.  I am not even a good cultural fit in my own home!

I think there is a lesson here and I am not sure what it is.  I can’t google it, I can watch a how to you tube video, I can’t just check out – what to do?

There must be a third way.  An option, a calling I am not hearing.  Even when you jump and fall you will eventually hit the ground.  I still feel like I am freefalling.

Just call me a midlife cultural misfit.  I will let you know when I land.

What happens when you silence a part of yourself for the “should”?  Like water flowing, it finds a way to reroute itself.  The same is true for our inner selves.  After being a “super-commuter” for several months, 5 days a week, I had it.  I could no longer do it.  I was exhausted, never saw my family and missed most every school program they had.  Although I loved the work and it fit me, the commute did not.  I decided to take a leap with a closer opportunity.  Although there were many red flags with the supervisor and with the organization itself, I once again convinced myself that retirement, security and benefits should rule my decision making and that I could fit any job even if it didn’t fit me.

I resigned from my commute and once again, midway through life, became the new girl.

It was a disaster.

The red flags proved to be right, there was hostility, pettiness and mixed messages from day one.  I was told I wasn’t a good fit on day 3 and on day 5 I left.  DAY 5.  On one hand, I am so glad that I figured this out quick and the damage was pretty minimal. On the other hand, this blow to my ego makes me want to curl up in a fetal position and cry.  I think what I realized is I don’t truly know who I am in midlife.  I don’t know where I fit in and what I want to do.  I have worked all my life but in a more reactionary way: I applied, they accepted, we made it work.  Until we didn’t.  I realized that my old way of rolling with things and changing who I am to please others just isn’t going to help me in the next phase of my life.  Nowadays, there are so many work years that we have.  I am looking at maybe another 20 years in the workforce if not more.

So many articles and books talk of finding yourself.  How do you find yourself amidst family life, money concerns and small towns with limited resources?  How do you find yourself when, as the song says, you didn’t know you were lost?  How do you search for meaning in a world full of connected disconnect?  How do you pick yourself up and dust yourself off when the world around you is buzzing and flying by?  It is the mayhem of the midway.  I am once again off the tracks, looking for meaning in a meaningless space.

Where do we go from here?