Sorry Anne, you're dismissed

At some point in the last couple of months, it seems like I finally grew up. Is this the second Saturn return taking effect? Who can say? I just know that I feel as if I found my place in the world and I intend to enjoy the heck out of it.

Since I was a very young woman - 22, in fact - I’ve had a conviction that your seventh decade is when everything goes wrong. I was there when my grandparents died in their early sixties. A number of years later, my uncle at 60. I didn’t take on board all the people who were still alive and thriving. All those who had lived into great old age. No, your sixties are when you die. Anne Lamott called them the “sniper’s alley” and I had my proof because she’s smart and funny and knows her stuff.

I can’t over-emphasise the impact this had. For me, one of menopause’s worst aspects was extreme health anxiety. I’d never had it and never been seriously ill. It’s not widely talked about because it feels so stupid, scarey and a little whiney but it’s real so if this is you too, please don’t feel bad. It may give you a heart attack. JK.

Suddenly every ache (there were thousands), every heart flutter (same), every night spent awake, every damn thing that came with it was CLEAR PROOF that I was about to die. I was in the alley with no cardboard boxes to hide behind. Who was going to tell my daughter? How would my partner cope? Who would look after my dogs? What about my dreams that I’d left on hold? Night after night - that faded to weeks, to months and now only occasional (but steel-toed) - visits from this particular demon had me even more paralysed, indecisive and non-commital than ever. What was the point in anything when I was destined to go any day now? I’d missed my boat.

But something happened. I knew that if I could just find a way that made sense, I’d climb out of this pit. So I looked for expanders: people in their sixties doing amazing things, starting amazing things, seemingly not remotely bothered by the number of candles on their birthday cake, just fired up with a plan for the future. Their future. Because they have one.

These people were quite hard to find at first. My search parameters were too narrow. I was looking for people who were doing precisely what I might do because that offered a kind of proof that felt safe. It would have shown a well-trodden path, a system, a foolproof plan. What was I thinking?

It was only when I started to include people who were simply living their life to the full with hopes, dreams and long term plans still in tact, that I began to see evidence. To hear joyful new stories to replace the sad ones I carried.

In addition, I was listening to inspiring people of all ages talk about life and the potential therein and I knew I still wanted it, maybe more than ever. I started to think about my goals and saw they were nebulous. No wonder I couldn’t find the path to them, they were “no place, no time, no details”.

I spent time with this. What do I want and when do I want it? Out of that came three clear aims: personal, sacred and the third one was tricky to name. It’s not “professional” or “public” or even ”purpose”.

The friend who inspired my post about gathering yourself has another phrase she uses - bear in mind that she is at least trilingual and her translations are often poetic and refreshing. Just different enough to breathe new life into a word I’ve taken for granted. When talking about the diaspora of her country of birth, she sometimes refers to them as “the village”. I was confused at first but then realised that she switches between that word and “community”. Isn’t that beautiful? The idea that you are part of a village that may be spread across a planet. So my third goal, in my head and heart, comes under “village”. It involves people who may be far from my immediate family and friends, but share so much with me that we are in the same village.

There is a timeline. A time when I will assess my efforts and see if I have succeeded and that time is at the end of this life, be it at 62 or 102. If I’m lucky enough to be able to remember and think about my past, I’ll look back and see if I have certain boxes ticked. Success will bring peace, for sure, and I’m confident. There are only three and I’m already well on the way with two of them.

Which leaves the third. For the village.

Here I am. Sixty in ten months. And I cannot bloody wait.

I’ve decided I believe that whether I get some or all of them, my sixties are going to be tremendous. Finally, I’m qualified (“University of life, mate…”) to do something good for my village. To fulfil a role I’ve low key been playing since I was two years old and became a big sister.

I still have hopes, dreams, potential. My life is as full of vision and possibility as it ever was. More full!

This is not me cranked up on sunshine and coffee. I’ve been practising daily realignment with this vision for myself because (as per my last post) my brain has a propensity to skim and skip. Not this time. Something about this is inspiring me to ride the bucking bronco of my prefrontal cortex and stay on board for the duration.

We’re alive, right? As Thich Nhat Hanh said, “Because you are alive, everything is possible.” And he’s even smarter than Anne Lamott.

What is possible for us? What dream may have slipped away from us because our age starts with a 5 or a 6 or a 7? I have a powerful feeling they’re all still waiting for us.