Mid-Life Enlightment

Stubborn greys, weakening eyesight and an intolerance for idiots is how I know that I am reaching the mid point of my life or what others call middle age.  Not to mention  teeth that are self-destructive, memory that is fading and did I mention an attitude that seems more and more indifferent  about other people's opinions?

I hate the term middle-age. Youth is fine, even old is a bearable term, but middle-age is like you are someone who is old, but clinging to the lost glory of youth.It is youth on accelerated decay .  It is pathos personified. You can be graceful in your old age, accept that you are past your prime, but letting go of  your prime age, and shifting gears to being called a senior is not easy. And rightly so. We are geared to admire youth. The period between mid-forties to sixties is the treachorous zone. The in-betweens similar to teens or tweens . I would rather that we call ourselves mature adults or seasoned adults, seems more like we are in terms of our reality and somehow seems less deragatory than middle-age.

It starts with a few gray, it starts when you look into the mirror and notice fine lines where there were none. And the realization sets in when you meet people you haven't met in ages, people you knew in college, looking all "middle-aged". You go home, look at your pictures from 10 years ago and viola the enlightment sets in that it is that phase of the life again. The awkward phase. To dye or not to dye phase. To change your beauty routine to more "matured skin" cream phase. Don't even get me started on the effects on the body .

The changes are subtle. Even conversations shift from movies and books to more of what medication are you taking for hypertension to eating healthy. The first sign that you are past prime is when you are obsessed with health and regimes that make you younger. I find myself being more attracted towards articles titled  5 steps to younger skin articles,Foods that lower your blood pressure and what to do when you have a stroke. I resist to succumb to the attraction of just letting go. I resist not being relevant or being a"has been" . I resist talking about the good old days -and nothing personifies  the epic struggle to pull away from the magnetic attraction of youth more than  my attempts to still keep myself relevant in terms of pop-culture. I try but lately I have found that the effort is catching up with me. I am moving to the other side of the spectrum soon. Old age is winning this tug of war.

Then you have the mid-life crisis. The rebellious phase or maybe a  self-realization phase where you actually understand that when they said life was short, they really meant it. One fine morning it clicks that the life you had been leading so far,was more for others. You look back, some regrets, some satisfying proud moments, some sad and heart wrenching moments, you have been through it all. You are a survivor. You also start getting news of people you know or friends of people you know dropping dead. And it hits you. You are half-way there and you had better enjoy life on your terms, because you are not getting out alive. You are on this roller coaster going downhill, full speed. You have the choice, you can scream your lungs out and enjoy the ride or just wait in trepidition for the ride to be over. Mid-life crisis should be termed Mid-life enlightment. I find this to be the age of lost realization. I realize that my prime was spent in raising kids and taking care of the family, Not that I regret it, but it does seem like I have now woken up from a long slumber of building a family, and now that I am awake, I have in many ways no idea how to live life for myself. My body is not only past its prime, my mind is sort of lost too. The desire to discover who I am without the taglines of relationships, without labels is intense. And that is the gist of "crisis"

Now when I look in the mirror, I realize that this is probably the best I will look ever, at least the youngest I will ever be. I am learning to accept that even if middle age is messy and hormonal, even if it is ambigious in its scope, I am a mature adult,on the threshold to be  I actually admitted loudly what I knew long ago, that I couldn't compete with the youngsters. There I have admitted it.  

Romance and Love

“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.”
― Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets

There is love and then there is romance. Romance, the adventure of falling in love, the rollercoaster ride of emotions when you can feel the most intense pain when apart or ecstatic by just being in someones presence. It is that perfect world where, the love of one person will complete your life . Life is picture perfect. 

 I always presumed that I  was a logical person, and when you feed  a person who thinks, with pop romance churned by  Mills and Boons and Barbara Cartland you are inviting trouble. Idyliic love,perfect world are as dangerous to an impressionable mind as some drugs. Both promote unreasonable expectations, both lead to life of escapism and fantasy. I should know, for my adolescence was groomed by these books,and the search for the epic romance and the ever elusive Mr. Darcy or Mr. Rochester. The search for the perfect hero who would sweep me off my feet. One major  issue with these books is that they are all written to cater to the female audience and they led you to believe that just being you ,  enough for the right guy.So here I was, an impressionable teen, searching in this maze my perfect hero. Ofcourse the unmentional literature (?) that catered to adolescent male is now very obvious to my mature present self. 

 My concept of love hinged on falling in love at first sight, and swooning into the arms of my lover,  and living happily ever after in this land of magic where there was no room for practical day to day problems. Life was supposed to be perfect. All I needed was the right soulmate, who would magically find my flawed being perfect. Good luck finding someone being blind in love for ever. Love at that age had to mean more than what my parents shared. Caring and looking after each other, being kind and supporting sounded very boring to my imaginative mind. I wanted romance.I wanted the whole nine yards -flowers and poetry, and ofcourse  to be proclaimed as the centre of someone's universe. One aspect  about looking for the perfect Mills and Boon hero  was that I was never living in the real world to be in a real relation. Do I regret that my perception of love was screwed up, for lack of using a more befitting word? Yes, I do. But then that was me and that is still me. Idealistic and  someone using the crutches of imagination  as escapism.

So what is love, if not what is described in books and movies.I have realized over the years that love is what love does. You can fall in love, fall out of love, but to be in love with someone over the years requries patience, kindness and acceptance.Love comes with no guarantees. There is no happily after with both breezing through life in all smiles.   Love is accepting the person for who they are, yet supporting them to be the best version of themselves. Love is riding the waves together, supporting each other, Taking turns to be strong. To be able to cry freely, to share dreams, fears and feel safe. Love is trust. There can be no relationship without trust. Love is also that feeling that you sometimes have dig deep within , to feel loving towards your partner, when you don't feel loving. Love is patience and above all commitment. Commitment to love even in the most unloving moments. To be kinds when all you want to do is lash out. And  above all it is to forgive. You will need lots of it.  To be loyal, even in face of temptation. Love is not an helpless emotion, but an active choice. It might start as being effortless, but it is always a work in progress.

Contact

A mishmash of thoughts, directionless, waiting for the right words to give them a form. I am an unorganized person, thriving in it too, and so are my thoughts. It takes me twice the time than that of a  normal person to organize my file- to put the papers in right order and  as for my closets - and house, the less said the better. Yet there is a madness in the order. Just like the beautiful wild flowers growing- not color coordinated, but still not out of place.

As you grow older, and hopefully you get some insights into your being, you learn to accept the traits that will not change. I gave up trying to reduce weight, when I realized I have been trying to do so  albeit half-heartedly, for decades. You cross 40s and there is this freedom, freedom of just being who you are, warts, and quirks and all. I have changed, but I have given fighting who I am at an intrinsic level.

We are all defective- weird in our own small ways. And we seek companionship in people who will recognize us for what we really are. Someone, who can look through our broken beings, and accept us. There is no meaning to life without connections. Our purpose in life might be different, our values in life might differ, yet we need a human contact to make life real.

I am an extreme introvert, put me in a party and I am looking for escape routes - literally. Yet even for someone like me, a stimulating conversation, a warm smile and genuine concern is what makes my day. A good conversation - a spirited exchange of thoughts, of words leading to a stimulating discussion still gives me a high.  A perfect conversation is effortless and smooth. Your words are allowed to flow at the same pace as your thoughts. No pause, no boosters,  topics linked like the cars of a train - chugging at a rhythmic pace.  Some days the voices n my head get lonely, they want to be heard, to share. Life is too short to stay isolated. People, friends and adversaries, toxic and healthy make us what we are. Human beings need each other. We need to love and be loved. This need transcends all barriers, color, age, religion and this is our strength as well as our weakness as humans.

Time to fly

For the past 20 years, my life has revolved around my kids and family.  I have to admit, I have never been the all consuming perfect mother. I enjoyed every bit of it, but was I any good? Well let's just say that if there were medals being handed out for being outstanding parent, rest assured I wouldn't be even on the waiting list. I consider myself to be a mediocre mother. I haven't made any huge sacrifices, I didn't have to.  I have received more joy from my kids, than I am sure they have from me. The perks of disciplining.  There are loving mothers, there are fun mothers, there are perfect mothers, I consider myself to be a functional mother. I remember, when my older son was one year old, I was so relieved that he had survived 365 days with me. In these 20 years, along with lots of love, hugs and kisses, peppered with yelling and bouts of angry displays, and ranting my heart out even when I knew they were not listening, I have managed to raise two kind adults who whether they admit it or not are feminists in their own rights. Parenting is tough- letting go is tougher after all these of waiting for them to grow up, there is a sense of satisfaction, along with with the stoic acceptance that  my role in their lives has been downgraded from lead lady to supporting actor, not an easy demotion to accept.

After the initial glitch and adjustment period which lasted maybe for a year or so, I am learning to enjoy my reclaimed time and freedom. My job description  as the primary nurturer and caregiver has now evolved to being more to that of cheerleader in the best of times, and a mute spectator at worst which is what it is going to be in the future times for sure. Watching them step into adulthood, getting first jobs, resigning, flunking exams, to first girlfriend, all testing my maturity as an adult. I hate to admit, but I did freak out for a couple of days on some girl, sharing my son's affection.

Yet, after all drama, I am loving this new stage of my life. I can finally live selfishly - I can put myself first now, most of the times.  I still volunteer to  cook for the boys,do their laundry and all the other stuff that maybe I shouldn't be doing anymore but  knowing that I have the choice to quit doing so, is very empowering. I also now have two more interesting adults to talk to , to discuss music, movies, books and life in general. 

Accidental banker

If my tiny office could talk, it would reveal stories - stories of struggles, of success, of heartbreaks and betrayals, of love, all beyond the numbers that are reflected in their bank statements. Each one of us has fallen, failed and risen in our own ways. In the past few years of being an an accidental banker, I have learnt a few things about life and people in general. Tears have been shed, hugs shared, sounds of laughter and joy and often things that keep people up at night. Finances reveal a lot about you .Numbers don't lie, but they don't tell the complete story. In the past 4 years, I have shared my failures, my successes as others have with me. Some heartbreaking stories stay with you forever. My job has given me insight to mosiac of life - collecting one piece at a time.  Life lessons at 46 - yes it is possible.

1) Never assume. Ask. Time and again I err and assume, making  a judgment without questioning. Asking questions is not rude, but judging someone without knowing their background definitely is. it is surprising how asking the right questions can reveal a story that would have been lost forever.

2) Some thought processes can never be understood, let alone be agreed on. All journeys cannot be understood, and maybe we don't need to, yet respecting it anyways is a possibility.

3) Every journey is unique. All of us have a story to tell. We are all vulnerable and looking for love in some form or other.

4) Poverty is ugly. Period. Money is not evil, but greed is.

5) Beware of debts. It is so easy to take on, yet not all of our bad  financial situations are because of being bad with money. Along with just being plain careless with money, and instant gratification, there are other valid reasons that bring people on the brink of financial crisis like failure in business, bad health , divorce and many more..

6)The rich get where they are because they are conscious of every penny they spend. The most discerning clients are rich people. Not necessarily happiest. But also not necessarily unhappiest.

7) Life is short and unpredictable. Make provisions for your loved ones.Love is not what you do when you are alive , love is also taking care of them after you are long gone. If you have dependents, you need a valid will . If you believe every day could be your last, make plans accordingly.

8) Money can sour the sweetest of relationships. Money matters, in all relationships. Financial stability is a strength in any relationship and a mark of how healthy your relationships are

9) Jerks have no creed and there is no stereotype .I wish I could say rich people are jerks, or people on welfare are. They are unfortunately spread across indiscriminately .

10) The greatest wealth we have is our family and our health. Laughter is the common factor for both.

Life Unhurried

A question we all need to ask ourselves everyday, is what would I be doing if today was my last day on earth? Technically and realistically it is possible that it very well could be. I don't know of any other measure that can judge our sense of happiness better than this.  We are creatures of habit, we love our routines and although we know we are mortal, we  believe somewhere deep in our heart that we are indestructible.  How else can we possibly explain our mindless living? Days turn into weeks, into months and years, and before we know half our life has been lived without us even realizing it, and probably on terms set by someone else.

Life can be rushed even if you are not actively seeking a busy life. I like to keep balance, like to take the  time to smell the roses , to watch the sun set, to see the sky change colors to hide into darkness, or to just watch the first star shyly taking over the sky. I love to watch the leaves falling, pick fresh wild berries on my walks, to strain my ears to listen to different sounds of chirping . There is nothing more humbling than standing under a sky full of stars to realize how lucky you are to be where you are. Every rain drop, every sunrise, every sun ray that tries to peep through the clouds, every cloud that hugs the mountains, every time the breeze whispers or the sun reaches and touches my skin,  I feel grateful to be alive. 

As much as I love a good conversation, as much as I enjoy connecting with people, solitude is what recharges me. Life is all about connecting - connecting with people, loving people, empathizing, but it is also about connecting with your inner self. We cannot live mindlessly . Busyness is not necessarily a good thing. At times weekends are enough, but all of us need  to have at least couple of minutes to sit and reflect on how our day was. Not recounting, not expressing to anyone, but only sitting in silence and reflecting on where we are going and why.
Life needs to flow, flow at its own pace. We cannot rush life - we just have to keep up with it- to listen, to feel. There is honestly no guaranteed tomorrows, no planned retirements, no "I will start living when ...". Time is now and here - in the present.  

Empty Nest

Have you ever stood under a sky full of stars and wondered at your insignificance? In my case, looking up at the sky is always a revelation, a reality check. The thing about life is that it is so uncertain, yet here we are with all our silly plans, postponing our happiness for tomorrow. Lately, I have been going through this malaise called "mid-life crisis". It is more common than you would think. It is when you reach half way through your life span and look back and wonder what you have done with your life.. It is a realization that maybe all is not lost, and life could still be different. It is the urgency of time ticking by  and a sense of loss.  When I meet young adults, just starting their life, there is a tinge of despair, a feeling of nostalgia for time gone by. The realization that I  have passed that stage, that all that is in the past, and even if I wanted to, I could not rewind the clock back, leaves you with despair. I understand a decade from now, I would be looking at the current phase with longing too.

Once you are in your mid -twenties, you invest in your career and if you are lucky a happy family. What no one ever tells you is that along with being rewarding, building a family is all consuming too, as it should rightly be so. The years from when your kids are born, till the time, they are sort-of independent, flies away at times in a haze. I am not a sentimentalist, I rarely look back at old photos,but the truth is dawning on me that at present I am more dependent on my kids for my emotional needs than they are on me.  They are starting to step out in the world and will need me time and again, I know that because I am fortunate enough to still lean in to my parents. But for now my role is to lurk in the shadows , be the safety net while they learn to trapeze through life.

I would be lying if I said that adapting to this  pre-empty nest  stage is easy I had happily lost myself in this journey of being a responsible adult. I am in the process of rediscovering myself, trying to fill in the vacuum. I have waited long for this phase, to reclaim my time as an individual, yet I feel despair, with my role as nurturer, disciplinarian, and at times maid, being replaced by a friend that lurks in the background. I am lost for now, trying to reinvent a life- to create a life beyond kids, to adapt to a new phase in life.