Is that all there is?

There’s an old tune by Peggy Lee in which the chorus repeats ‘Is that all there is?’ and Peggy talks of being disillusioned with the supposedly exciting aspects of life.

‘If that's all there is my friends
Then let's keep dancing
Let's break out the booze and have a ball
If that's all there is.’

The first time I remember hearing this song was during an episode of Sex and the City. In this particular episode the four friends head off to a wedding in the Hamptons between an unlikely pair, and when I heard the lyrics it made me so so sad. At the time I didn’t give it too much thought, but on repeated viewings (if you’re a SATC fan you have to have watched it on repeat!) it would hit every time, a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach, an uncomfortableness I couldn’t put into words. So as with most uncomfortable feelings, I ignored it.

Then recently I heard the song again and I began pondering, eventually realising the empty feeling was because it speaks to one of my biggest fears, that of living a mundane life, an empty life with nothing to show for my time on the earth. Shuffling off this earth without leaving much more than a few fingerprints. It made me think of an annual review decades ago where my boss told me I worked harder than anyone else but didn’t have any impact. That stung. Still does. When I dug deeper on this overall dread of a life not well lived, I also realised it’s because of what I witnessed my mum live through. A 27 year marriage in which she invested her entire being, and which ended abruptly one night with my Dad confessing to an affair.

I adore my mum. She’s one of life’s kindest beings. Wants to help everyone. Would hate to her core if someone thought bad of her, and she has given her all to her family her entire life. Growing up her own mother was often ill and so she’d take on a lot of the domestic duties, preparing meals for her mother & father, and her younger sister, from as early as 9 years old. She once told me that she’d be sent for the groceries, prep everything and my Nannan would handle the hot bits of putting things in pans or the oven. After spending much of her childhood caring for her parents and sibling, my mum then got married and instantly took on the role of housewife and a few years later that of mother to me, her own dreams parked. She’s an incredibly talented seamstress and in her late teens would make all of her own clothes, harbouring dreams of being a fashion designer, of a similar ilk to Mary Quant or Zhandra Rhodes. These ambitions were shelved in favour of raising a family and being a good wife.

This she did for 27 years. Cooking, cleaning, raising me. Staying at home every weekend while my Dad went to the pub or the Working Men’s Club. She worked for a while at my primary school as a dinner lady, then on tills at Sainsbury’s and a few other supermarkets, and the nearest she got to her original ambitions was in taking in sewing jobs, alterations for family & friends, and the occasional outfit for me as I got older. Just after turning 18 I left home and a few years later I got that heart splintering phone call from her to say my Dad had announced he was leaving.

It makes me so sad to think all of her life has been given to others, and now she has so little to show for it, for her own happiness. Yes, she has raised me, and I’ve not turned out too bad, and she’s also a terribly kind and loving grandmother to my daughter but what of her own dreams?

Then I realise this sadness is for her but also for myself, and my fear of being the same. Giving everything to others to realise, possibly too late, that I’ve left my own dreams behind. Is that all there is?

I’ve found approaching my 50th birthday very intriguing. Do I care about turning 50, am I despairing of my youth? No I am not. I’ve enjoyed all of my so called landmark birthdays from 30, to 40 and now towards 50, but I’ve noticed some worrying thoughts and personal opinions beginning to surface that frankly have taken me by surprise.

For instance, I am surrounded, be it in person or on social media channels, TV etc, by incredibly strong, successful, stunning examples of 50+ women. The obvious spring to mind like Helen Mirren and a quick google search then presents me with names like Naomi Campbell, Julianne Moore, Dawn French, Oprah Winfrey, Joanna Lumley, Halle Berry, Demi Moore. However, despite these examples I’ve realised of late that my inherit dread of getting to 50 is because deep down I still see being 50 years old as looking like my gran. My Gran at 50 (possibly even at 40) in her polyester dresses, tan tights and rollered hair.

When I see a good looking woman who is 50+, no matter how successful she is in her own right, my mind still goes to ‘ooh she looks good for her age’. WHAT! I don’t care what people look like, particularly women. I want women to celebrate how incredible they are, their strength, their talents, their compassion, their skills, pretty much everything BUT their looks. As my friend says, the rest is just a meat suit. So it’s been scary to see some of my patriarchy created beliefs coming to the fore.

In a similar vein I always thought I’d have done more by 50. When I thought of 50 I imagined a woman on top of her game. Debt free. Established business owner no longer striving but thriving. Mortgage free. Yes, even a slimmer woman. Calmer. More care free. When I was in my 20’s, being 50 was old. In my 30’s I perhaps began to see it wasn’t old but it was definitely an age by which I’d have everything sorted. In my 40’s the truth began to dawn that 50 definitely wasn’t past it, in fact I was being told it was set to be my best decade. No more shits left to give. Not caring one iota of others opinions. And maybe that still lays ahead, but I suppose now I am nearly 50 I’m seeing there’s no magic doorway through which I’ll walk out with my shit together.

And this is where that fear creeps in. If this is 50, is this really all there is?

It sounds incredibly ungrateful because it takes no account of all the fabulous people I have in my life and the things I have achieved, but I think this woman’s mid life crisis is real. It’s like saying to someone who’s depressed, look at every thing you have, it doesn’t stop you feeling sad. In fact it also makes you feel guilty as well as sad.

As a child, and then into adulthood, I always thought that deep down I was destined for something special. This wasn’t an arrogant, shouty belief. It wasn’t even something I thought of very regularly. It was just a knowing that even if I hadn’t done BIG things yet, I would one day. That the magic lay just ahead. I’ve kept that belief through turning 30, 40, 45 but now, as 50 looms, I’m beginning to think, what if I was wrong?

Let’s be honest, most of this is down to inherited beliefs. Stories I’ve become skilled at challenging over the years, and I think they’ve just got a stronger hold than before, just for a little while at least. And let’s not pretend that my plummeting estrogen levels aren’t playing their part too! I also think that post 50, even one day after the 24 hours that my age digits change, I’ll probably start to feel better. That it’s the build up to 50 that’s turning out to be a bit scarier than expected and once past that peak the expectations and therefor the pressure will diminish.

When I look at some of the women who are approaching 50 with me I’m definitely inspired. For instance Kate Winslet will turn 50 in October of this year and in her I see a woman going from strength to strength. I don’t see her getting less than, I see someone whose courage is getting bigger by the day. Well at least that’s my perception. Maybe she too is having her own turning 50 wobbles. Maybe she imagined achieving more by 50 than 5 BAFTAs, a Grammy, 5 Golden Globes and an Oscar?!

The truth is, at any age, we are what we believe ourselves to be. We are far more than our accomplishments, our looks and the money we have in the bank. We are the positive impact we have on others. We are the smiles we’ve brought to others faces, the hugs we’ve given, the conversations we’ve shared. We are the tears wiped away in sadness and the tears wept in laughter. Do I think I have more of all those things to give and to receive? Yes I do, and if that is all there is then it’s gonna be more than enough.