Lately, I’ve been spending a good deal of my time in one of the twin armchairs tucked in what I call my reading nook. On the round pie-crust table in-between are two piles of books waiting to be read and a daily planner. A notebook and pen are on my lap. Many thoughts come unbidden as I sit in this chair, covered under the cozy throw my granddaughter gave me for Christmas. I have written, launched, and promoted my book. My grandson is in full-time daycare and the work on our new/old house is nearing completion. There is a large hole looming before me. The deep, dark emptiness of it instigates panic and fear. I begin, admittedly, somewhat obsessively, to think about what will be next for me, triggered by brainstorming about what I should do to keep promoting my book.
In January, I turned 80. Yes to all you have written. I have come through the Woods of Shoulds, a difficult trek and a humbling one. What am I supposed to be doing? Does anyone care? If I don't write about it, did it really happen? And only in the last few months--80 brings, at long last, gravitas--has the answer come. "Wait for it." You came the closest when you asked, what if I just sat in a coffee shop and see what happens? Your spirit is strong. The universe is aware of you. There is a surprise around every corner. Listen, watch. Wait for it.
Your essay showed up in my inbox this morning and the timing couldn’t have been better. The Striving. I’ve been striving all my life. Reinventing at certain intervals. Chasing shoulds and pleasing no one. Exhausting myself in the pursuit of being accepted and good enough…. for what? I don’t even know what. Against the odds, I forged a successful career as a C suite executive only to find my world crumble around me as I hit a massive wall in December. Since then, I’ve left an awful job, had a stoke and have been diagnosed with heart, gut and eye issues all requiring surgery. And… I turned 60 yesterday!! That’s a big four months in anyone’s language! I’m exhausted! Bone tired, disillusioned and weary! And yet here I was, lying in bed, planning my reinvention so I could do it all again and strive for another exhausting ‘should’. There’s a reason why I couldn’t scroll past your article. Thank you for sharing your insights. I’m now going to stop, take a breath, ask Now What, and let the answer unfold.
You have recently left your job, launched a wonderful book, survived a pandemic, sparked hundreds of meaningful conversations around the world, cared for a young child, moved to a new house and community, performed renovations on your new house, jousted with existential questions daily, and so much more. I’m exhausted thinking of all the energy it had to take before you finally sat down in your beautiful chair. Goodness! Whose well wouldn’t need to be re-filled!! Please rest and do the things that bring you joy. All good things will follow. And, thank you for all you’ve done for the rest of us.
I've been calling it becoming a human BE-ing as opposed to a human DO-ing but it's the same as your Striving. It's good to hear an honest voice and feel in community.
When diagnosed with my second cancer two years ago at 65 and already retired, my “what now” feelings at the time were suspended while I took on the important work of healing. Thankfully I’m cancer free, but I’m left with this weird feeling of expectation. Not for a return of cancer, but if that happens so be it. I’m not dwelling on that by any means. But life is different and I think you’ve captured well how I feel. I’m still exhausted much of the time, but I realize that it’s often related to expectations I’ve layered on myself that don’t belong. It’s difficult to shake. I’m still young and have a lot to offer, but should I? And how much? I am concerned about so many areas of life and know I can be a better, stronger advocate, volunteer, supporter . But really, I just need to accept that I can’t. And that is OK, but I don’t like it.
Now in my 80s my overwhelming emotion is gratitude. Most of the women on this planet are not as privileged. How many women have not eaten today? How many have no place to sleep tonight? I have a studio to paint in tomorrow morning that is larger and more beautiful then many homes. I don't feel like I have done anything special to have such a life. It's luck. I am a lucky woman.
“You don’t want to move out; you just want to explore another room.” In recurring dream, I discover there’s another room in my home, sunny and full of light. It’s empty and can be what I want it to be. This dream is not unique to me. Thank you for shining a light on the unexplored rooms of our lives.
STRIVING is exhausting. Pain, physical or mental, is exhausting. Why do we need to apologize for resting, recharging? Why don’t we have siestas in America? No one should have to ask permission to take a nap. 🦕
i still sparkle even if I am decidedly no longer striving. I call it coasting, slow living, the life of a creative finally and I am deliciously happy with the freedom of it. i love the way you sort your words from your brain to your pen/posts Lyn. thank you!
there is unimaginable richness in the "hole." early morning sunlight, and now with spring, we get the gift of birdsong; the creature comforts of warmth, the taste of food, the scent of clean laundry... just open up to it, and suddenly your life is full. At 79, after a very full and stressful life as a physician, I can tell you that just the joy of waking up without an alarm clock is enough to fill my entire day. I am so lucky! and so are you!
Sometimes, I have found, it's enough to just BE. It is then that things find you. Your exploring your new world, seeing new things with new eyes is what makes it happen. Often it takes time for the just-right things to appear. When they do, you recognize them deep in yourself as if they say to you, "Where have you been? I was waiting." 76 here and always patiently waiting my way through the What's Next?
Wow, you are a beautiful writer. This is the first substack I’ve read, and I look forward to following you! This piece really moved me. I am 52 and share many of your feelings. Thank you so much for eloquently putting into words the exhaustion it takes to always be improving.
I was, as you know dearest cousin, punished for all the SHOULDS I should have accomplished. Hourly, Daily, monthly and yearly. Some big catastrophic events in my life left me only to my own devices.... only I, alone, could heal. You were there then and now. Let go of any thought of should. Just Be. You've got, all of this. No one else. Just you and me from the peanut gallery, as I was called. A peanut. I'll take it. They are fantastic. Unless allergic like our granddaughter Penelope. Our Pea. Full reversal thinking. Our Pea is immense. Giving to this world at 9.
While I appreciate your perspective, I can't say that I identify with it. My life feels so different! I've never striven to be relevant to any part of the world outside of my home, family, friends and career. I worked for pay for the first time at 12 or 13 (farm life) and part time through high school and college. I have never not worked, even when I was at home with my children. (They were "work" in the physical and emotional sense, but never "work" in the sense of obligatory labor. The marriage, on the other hand...) I loved being with them. I worked, and worried, a lot when I was a divorced and unemployed mom. I worked what felt like two jobs when they were in school, as I juggled their schedules and mine. I worked at letting them go when it was time.
Now, I work towards the goal of retirement in a few years. But with all of that work, I was always able to put it down at the end of the day. Never worrying about being relevant, or seen, or asking who I should be, now. I hope that I have good health at your age. I hope that I'll still enjoy the things I love today - my partner, a good walk, appreciation of nature, good food, friends, art and culture, travel. I hope I'll still enjoy what I consider to be the miracle of being alive on this earth at this time. I hope I'll be able to spend many happy years soaking up the joy of being present.
I hope that I'll also be able to appreciate an afternoon spent in a comfortable chair with my knitting or a good book on my lap, watching the birds at the feeder, listening to music, and knowing that it's enough just to BE.
In January, I turned 80. Yes to all you have written. I have come through the Woods of Shoulds, a difficult trek and a humbling one. What am I supposed to be doing? Does anyone care? If I don't write about it, did it really happen? And only in the last few months--80 brings, at long last, gravitas--has the answer come. "Wait for it." You came the closest when you asked, what if I just sat in a coffee shop and see what happens? Your spirit is strong. The universe is aware of you. There is a surprise around every corner. Listen, watch. Wait for it.
Your essay showed up in my inbox this morning and the timing couldn’t have been better. The Striving. I’ve been striving all my life. Reinventing at certain intervals. Chasing shoulds and pleasing no one. Exhausting myself in the pursuit of being accepted and good enough…. for what? I don’t even know what. Against the odds, I forged a successful career as a C suite executive only to find my world crumble around me as I hit a massive wall in December. Since then, I’ve left an awful job, had a stoke and have been diagnosed with heart, gut and eye issues all requiring surgery. And… I turned 60 yesterday!! That’s a big four months in anyone’s language! I’m exhausted! Bone tired, disillusioned and weary! And yet here I was, lying in bed, planning my reinvention so I could do it all again and strive for another exhausting ‘should’. There’s a reason why I couldn’t scroll past your article. Thank you for sharing your insights. I’m now going to stop, take a breath, ask Now What, and let the answer unfold.
You have recently left your job, launched a wonderful book, survived a pandemic, sparked hundreds of meaningful conversations around the world, cared for a young child, moved to a new house and community, performed renovations on your new house, jousted with existential questions daily, and so much more. I’m exhausted thinking of all the energy it had to take before you finally sat down in your beautiful chair. Goodness! Whose well wouldn’t need to be re-filled!! Please rest and do the things that bring you joy. All good things will follow. And, thank you for all you’ve done for the rest of us.
I've been calling it becoming a human BE-ing as opposed to a human DO-ing but it's the same as your Striving. It's good to hear an honest voice and feel in community.
When diagnosed with my second cancer two years ago at 65 and already retired, my “what now” feelings at the time were suspended while I took on the important work of healing. Thankfully I’m cancer free, but I’m left with this weird feeling of expectation. Not for a return of cancer, but if that happens so be it. I’m not dwelling on that by any means. But life is different and I think you’ve captured well how I feel. I’m still exhausted much of the time, but I realize that it’s often related to expectations I’ve layered on myself that don’t belong. It’s difficult to shake. I’m still young and have a lot to offer, but should I? And how much? I am concerned about so many areas of life and know I can be a better, stronger advocate, volunteer, supporter . But really, I just need to accept that I can’t. And that is OK, but I don’t like it.
Now in my 80s my overwhelming emotion is gratitude. Most of the women on this planet are not as privileged. How many women have not eaten today? How many have no place to sleep tonight? I have a studio to paint in tomorrow morning that is larger and more beautiful then many homes. I don't feel like I have done anything special to have such a life. It's luck. I am a lucky woman.
“You don’t want to move out; you just want to explore another room.” In recurring dream, I discover there’s another room in my home, sunny and full of light. It’s empty and can be what I want it to be. This dream is not unique to me. Thank you for shining a light on the unexplored rooms of our lives.
STRIVING is exhausting. Pain, physical or mental, is exhausting. Why do we need to apologize for resting, recharging? Why don’t we have siestas in America? No one should have to ask permission to take a nap. 🦕
i still sparkle even if I am decidedly no longer striving. I call it coasting, slow living, the life of a creative finally and I am deliciously happy with the freedom of it. i love the way you sort your words from your brain to your pen/posts Lyn. thank you!
Take a break and just listen.
there is unimaginable richness in the "hole." early morning sunlight, and now with spring, we get the gift of birdsong; the creature comforts of warmth, the taste of food, the scent of clean laundry... just open up to it, and suddenly your life is full. At 79, after a very full and stressful life as a physician, I can tell you that just the joy of waking up without an alarm clock is enough to fill my entire day. I am so lucky! and so are you!
Sometimes, I have found, it's enough to just BE. It is then that things find you. Your exploring your new world, seeing new things with new eyes is what makes it happen. Often it takes time for the just-right things to appear. When they do, you recognize them deep in yourself as if they say to you, "Where have you been? I was waiting." 76 here and always patiently waiting my way through the What's Next?
Thank you for articulating that pull that is so hard to disconnect from. I feel inspired to stop, breathe and see what comes.
Wow, you are a beautiful writer. This is the first substack I’ve read, and I look forward to following you! This piece really moved me. I am 52 and share many of your feelings. Thank you so much for eloquently putting into words the exhaustion it takes to always be improving.
I was, as you know dearest cousin, punished for all the SHOULDS I should have accomplished. Hourly, Daily, monthly and yearly. Some big catastrophic events in my life left me only to my own devices.... only I, alone, could heal. You were there then and now. Let go of any thought of should. Just Be. You've got, all of this. No one else. Just you and me from the peanut gallery, as I was called. A peanut. I'll take it. They are fantastic. Unless allergic like our granddaughter Penelope. Our Pea. Full reversal thinking. Our Pea is immense. Giving to this world at 9.
Love you.
While I appreciate your perspective, I can't say that I identify with it. My life feels so different! I've never striven to be relevant to any part of the world outside of my home, family, friends and career. I worked for pay for the first time at 12 or 13 (farm life) and part time through high school and college. I have never not worked, even when I was at home with my children. (They were "work" in the physical and emotional sense, but never "work" in the sense of obligatory labor. The marriage, on the other hand...) I loved being with them. I worked, and worried, a lot when I was a divorced and unemployed mom. I worked what felt like two jobs when they were in school, as I juggled their schedules and mine. I worked at letting them go when it was time.
Now, I work towards the goal of retirement in a few years. But with all of that work, I was always able to put it down at the end of the day. Never worrying about being relevant, or seen, or asking who I should be, now. I hope that I have good health at your age. I hope that I'll still enjoy the things I love today - my partner, a good walk, appreciation of nature, good food, friends, art and culture, travel. I hope I'll still enjoy what I consider to be the miracle of being alive on this earth at this time. I hope I'll be able to spend many happy years soaking up the joy of being present.
I hope that I'll also be able to appreciate an afternoon spent in a comfortable chair with my knitting or a good book on my lap, watching the birds at the feeder, listening to music, and knowing that it's enough just to BE.