Midlife Is Trying to Find Parts of Yourself You Lost

I’ve been stuck indoors the last two days. The air quality where I live in Western Michigan has hovered between 425 and 650, which means it is unhealthy for everyone. The smell of smoke is seeping into houses and stores. My dog is stressed every time he goes outside. People are wearing masks to go to the grocery store. We know it’s temporary, but it’s still distressing.

For me, situations like this are tough. In addition to some bad sinus issues, I have acute ocular rosacea, a condition characterized by inflammation of the eyes, leading to symptoms such as redness, burning, and itching. In times like these, I spend an inordinate and annoying amount of time on my eye health. I use specialized masks to help my tear ducts remain open; steroid drops and other medication to ensure my eyes don’t become too irritated; and resting my eyes as much as possible to keep them calm.

I often cannot wear the specialized contacts that help me see better because my eyes are too inflamed. I may get some bad headaches or residual pain. I try to avoid blepharitis, which impacts my eyelids, or contracting an infection that could take me weeks to clear up.

Woe is me, right? This is simply my cross to bear.

But I miss that time when I didn’t spend at least an hour a day maintaining good eye health. I developed ocular rosacea because I contracted a debilitating eye disease a decade ago, but it’s been exacerbated over the last few years because of my age and menopause. Sigh.

And I miss that time when my body didn’t feel so out of control. Weird weight gain, hair loss, brain fog, sleep disturbances, anxiety, etc. Each time I seem to make a bit of progress in my health, something new pops up to surprise me. Sigh.

And I miss that time when I felt a little bit more in control of my life and my emotions. Big sigh.

And I miss my kids living with me and the noise they brought to the house that made it feel more like a home. Sad sigh.

And I miss that old me sometimes, the one who was healthier, who could hold it together a little bit better, who wasn’t quite so ragey and anxious sometimes, who felt better about her body, her mindset, her life.

Around 11 a.m. yesterday, my eyes were bothering me so much that I had to take out my lenses. Unfortunately, I can’t wear glasses because of a corneal scar and acute astigmatism, so I can’t do much when this happens. Luckily for me, I can see the screen on my phone enough to watch a few shows, so I plopped down on my bed and continued watching Your Friends & Neighbors with Jon Hamm and Amanda Peet.

I’ve enjoyed this show, but in season two, I’ve been particularly drawn in by Peet’s portrayal of a woman in her prime slamming into the brick wall of perimenopause. She has nailed it.

She starts having hot flashes. She experiences uncontrollable rage. She struggles with controlling her emotions around her older kids. She has brain fog.

Her sex drive is impacted; her sense of self is altered; her kids are leaving the nest, so her purpose has changed; her career took a shift.

Sound familiar to anyone out there? (me shyly raising a hand.)

The show is somehow utterly outrageous and incredibly realistic at the same time.

Peet gets all sorts of advice about how to tackle her symptoms, everything from vaginal creams and injections to having more sex and therapy, but you can see her unraveling as the season continues. It is both one of the most painful and relatable things I have watched on television.

In one scene, Peet’s character is repairing a friendship that ended the year before after a betrayal. The friend says, “I really missed you last year. I felt lost without you.”

And Peet says softly, “I felt lost without me.”

Gosh, I felt that.

When you are going through a tough time, it’s hard to get out to the other side when you feel like you can’t depend on yourself—when you can’t count on your gut to make good decisions or your brain to function right or your self-confidence to keep you on solid footing.

You might end up trying everything to find yourself again. You focus on changing your body or getting new friends or hormone replacement or supplements or maybe even a new relationship.

In the same scene, Peet’s character talks about an affair she had the previous year. She says, “The whole thing with Nick, I think I was just trying to find parts of me that were lost.”

Oof.

I spent a good chunk of the last few years either trying to hold on to what I had or trying to get back what I lost.

I spun my wheels a lot, and it felt like trying to get my car out of the mud—lots of putting my foot on the gas but going nowhere.

Trying to get my body back. Trying to find the same purpose I felt while raising my kids. Trying to keep my business operating at the same pace. Trying to keep my emotions in check. Trying to hold onto my vitality. Trying to stay relevant. Trying to not lose my mind.

And it wasn’t until I stopped trying so hard, it wasn’t until I put down the load I had been carrying, it wasn’t until I took my foot off the gas and sat in the mud that I understood what needed to come next.

I have lost parts of myself. And that’s okay. It gives me space to let in new things I couldn’t even imagine.

It took me a few years to realize that I was stuck on a treadmill to nowhere. When I stepped off, it gave me a moment to catch my breath and recognize that my life had changed. I had changed.

I filled up my life for so long with all the things that I had no room to think about how I wanted to live my life next; I had no margins in the story of my life. Just a jumble of words on repeat cluttering my mind 24/7.

When I stopped beating myself up, when I gave myself space, when I allowed myself to let go of the things that I lost, I could reassess my priorities.

I will always be a mother, but my role as mom is not always my primary character anymore.

I am still a writer, but how I get my message across has changed.

I want to feel good infinitely more than I want to look good.

I am approaching my health in a more holistic way.

I am focused on slowing down instead of trying to accomplish a lot.

I cannot solve all the world’s problems, but I can help one person every day.

I do not have to be obsessively watching the news to stay informed.

I can move at a slower pace and still be productive.

And I’ve recognized that I don’t have to do great things to have a great life.

Part of being a woman means constantly learning to feel good enough exactly as you are—and learning how to stop chasing an impossible standard.

Midlife is about unlayering yourself. Sometimes these layers die off naturally; sometimes they fall off no matter how hard we try to hang on; and sometimes we peel them back in a painfully slow, methodical way.

Letting go has always been hard for me. My anxiety often gets in the way of accepting change; fear often supersedes my ability to feel excited about the future; nostalgia often clouds my judgment and choices.

But as I shed the skin of my past, I also shed many of the things that have held me back in life. Days like today, when the air quality is poor and my eyes hurt and I’m forced to change my plans—well, these used to break me. Now, I am using them as opportunities for reset, to take care of myself, to model grit and resilience to my kids, and perhaps to help someone else through these tough times as well.

And I know that by letting those things go, I have opened myself up for new adventures, new opportunities, new ways of looking at the world, and maybe, even a new and improved mindset to take me into this next phase of life.

The truth is, I found out this year that sometimes you have to completely fall apart and lose yourself before you can figure out who you really are.

I am strong.

I am resilient.

I am loving and loved.

I am enough.

I am whole.

I know you are, too. You may just need to peel back a few layers to find out for yourself.

Love your people hard. Love yourself harder.

With you,

Whitney

P.S. As I mentioned above, this week I finished Your Friends & Neighbors. It took me a bit to get into season 2, but something happened towards the end of episode 4, and I was hooked. Very compelling season that touched on many midlife issues. Highly recommend!

I also have been devouring the book The God of the Woods by Liz Moore. It’s been on my list for so long, and I’m so glad that I found some time to read it. I’m enjoying it so much. It is full of mystery, awkward, relatable characters, and great, detailed storytelling.

And yes, for those of you keeping track, I’m still trying to finish Buckeye as well. Because I haven’t been walking outside as much, I haven’t been listening to as much of my Audible books, but I am absolutely determined to finish it!