Maybe You Don't Have a Problem.

If you're a woman in midlife, and you find yourself saying:

"I just need to get motivated."

"I've got to get back on track."

"Get my body, my business back"

It's normal, but while you're looking backward at what was — wondering why it broke and how to fix it — your feet, mind and energy are pointed the wrong direction. 

There is a difference between failing at something and outgrowing it. 

Outgrowing is painful

Culturally, we don't deal well with discomfort and uncertainty. We think both are problems to be solved, but suffering is a time-worn crucible used to refine us. Just because we can avoid it, doesn't mean we should. 

Also, by midlife, most women are well-trained crisis managers, so when something is just neutral, even that feels wrong. So we create a problem to solve, then start solving it.

Midlife, by definition, is neutral to painful territory, but that doesn't mean there's anything to fix. The lostness, the restlessness, the confusion is more than likely an old version of you dying. 

Ew. What can I do about that?

You probably won't like this, but there's a reason the caterpillar/cocoon metaphor is apt for women in midlife. 

Most people know that the catepillar, once inside the cocoon, releases an enzyme that dissolves its body into goop. That's tragic and gross, unless you understand that the caterpillar has something called imaginal discs on board. Inside those discs is the DNA coding for black and turquoise wings, antennae and butterfly eyeballs. 

The DNA will only express once the caterpillar's body has liquefied.

Pause and calmly consider that. I'll wait. 

The caterpillar won't "get back on track"

It's dying.

There is something new coming, but it requires waiting in the goopy dark; it's a dis-integration. There's nothing to fix, change or optimize, just a mysterious waiting. 

This is the Paschal Mystery of birth, death and resurrection, and it begins when all we know for sure is, "this version doesn't fit me anymore."

You can't force the process, but you can stay steady through it. Willing to live in not knowing. Trusting God that something new is coming. 

Believing that (and I promise it's true) makes midlife feel a bit more interesting and hopeful. 

Four questions to ponder

1. What feels complete to you, even if you haven't admitted it yet?
2. Where are you forcing yourself backward, instead of falling forward?
3. What if what you're feeling isn't failure, but initiation?
4. What if sadness and melancholy is the exact right response as you turn into goop? Maybe trying to accept it, rather than smearing it with positivity frosting, is the exact right move. 
   
   

Is it time to let some things go?

An honest assessment of who you are now and who you want to be next, is the work of midlife. By staying honest and curious about that, you give yourself (and others) permission to evolve.

Have a great week.