Wednesday Bubble: Menopause in the City?
Scene:
Mr. Big has just left Carrie, who’s gained 50 lbs, for another woman. Charlotte is quickly pursuing her post-menopause dreams. And Miranda has finally come out and destroyed her family.
Yes, it’s menopause in the city.
But, it’s not the only tragedy in the ‘City that Never Sleeps.’ In fact, there’s a new book in town: Menopause in Manhattan. And while I’ve not yet gotten my hot flash hands on the pages, and am all for self-realization regardless of age, I’m not sure what to make of the title. Or why menopause in Manhattan is any different than menopause in any other metropolitan or non-metropolitan city.
Billed as a novel that “will challenge women over a certain age to continue to pursue their dreams,’ Menopause in Manhattan promises to meld the worlds of New York publishing, interior design, fashion and food and I assume, flashes into a story of the trials and tribulations of a woman trying to put her life together after it falls apart.
So, if I am to understand this correctly, menopause (and turning 50) marks the time when our lives start to fall apart, when we stop pursuing our dreams and goals, when we stop living? In other words, the cessation of reproduction is, for all intents and purpose, a woman’s rapture. And if she fails to realize the dangers, she may fall into fires of hell rather than rise to the heavens of the occasion?
Hmmm. Seems like only a few weeks ago, I was shouting to the universe that I wasn’t dead yet. And having just marked that turning point in style, I have to say that I still pretty much feel the same. Nothing much has changed, except a number. My dreams, goals and drive remain the same. And despite a few life challenges, I don’t believe that either transition I’m undergoing is going to result in less me, only more me.
Bubble-worthy??? You betcha!
Read MoreA celebratory year… Guest post by Laura Bowman
I’ve run across two ponds to get away from turning 50. But evidently, you can run but you can’t hide. At least according to my friend Laura, who’s agreed to guest post while I’m gone.
Enjoy and thanks Laura!
It’s been a big year for celebrations; mostly 50th birthday celebrations. Yup, the big five-oh. Fifty, freakin’ fifty. I’m a bit of a curmudgeon when it comes to celebrations, so it’s also been an uncomfortable year. Discomfort has found me wondering why we have to make such a big deal about birthdays and other milestones. Much to my surprise, my pondering has landed me on the favorable side of the whole celebration issue. Here’s why. Forget year, it’s been a whole decade for disappointments – Disappointments in career, disappointing health news, disappointments in relationships. If it really is true that negative emotions impact our health, shorten our life span, etc., then I need a big ole load of counteractive medicine.
I don’t think I’m in the minority here. As we grow older, the stakes are higher. We become parents, bosses, and caretakers. Our knees fail. Our memory goes. We’re passed over for a promotion. By someone younger. The calls come in. Someone is very sick, and it’s not a cold. Some days, there aren’t enough cupcakes in the world to make us feel better.
So on those occasions when we mark an important event, be it a birthday or just making it through a work week, it seems important to form some sort of ceremony that lifts our hearts and makes us smile, or better yet, laugh.
It shouldn’t be news to you that laughter appears to really be the best medicine. If the Mayo Clinic is to be believed laughter not only reduces stress, long term laughter may improve immune systems and ease pain! (There, that’s my little health plug, since this is, after all, a health related blog.)
However, the health angle isn’t enough to get me psyched about a celebration. For me, the attraction of the celebration is to focus on something positive and to create a memory that will get me through hard times. I want reasons to laugh hard, from my belly, until tears are rolling down my eyes. I want the intangible comfort that comes from being with people who really know you and still want to be with you. I want, if only for a fleeting moment of time, to believe that it really is all about me and the people I love. That’s gotta be good for me – right?
Of course, planning a celebration can be a stressor all in itself. At least, that’s my favorite reason for avoiding the whole party. So, I’m starting a list of very simple tried and true ideas that I’ve picked up from my friends–most of who have fearlessly faced down fifty:
- There is always the dinner party – cater or reserve at a restaurant if you can.
- Organize a kayaking, hiking, biking, or other activity adventure
- Participate in a community event (one friend got a bunch of girlfriends together to walk the Cooper River Bridge in Charleston – over 6 miles one way)
- Learn something you new – I’ve tried cross country skiing and one year plan to take a cooking class.
- Go someplace you’ve always wanted to go (now who do we know that’s going to Spain?)
- Play miniature golf!! Or go to a batting cage!!! Or both!!
- One friend wants to dress up in thrift store evening gowns and go sing at a karaoke bar; we haven’t indulged her yet. Maybe you will.
- Remember slumber parties??
- And, of course, there’s everyone’s favorite – the spa…
Feel free to add to the list. What do you do to celebrate? And Liz, Happy Fifty – Fifty, fantabulous fifty!!! May your celebrations last all year long.
About the author…
Laura Bowman is a health policy analyst with the Department of Veterans Affairs and, like so many of us, trying to figure out how fifty came so fast and how best to approach the next third of her life.
Read MoreCreativity and the menopause
I happened upon a tweet by my friend Amy Palko over the weekend:
“What effect does menopause have on our perception of ourselves as intrinsically creative beings?”
For those of you who don’t know Amy, she is a writer, educator and creator of a wonderful site called Bloom by Moon, where she explores the moon cycles and the goddess narratives in order to help women reconnect with their sacred feminine. Those of you who are regular readers of this blog may recall that Amy graced the pages of Flashfree last year and contributed a beautiful piece on acknowledging our inner dark goddesses, a piece that remains close to my heart.
So, back to Amy’s question on creativity and menopause.
Menopause, as those of you who are in the throes, are swirling around the “peri” or fully past it know, is time of great change, not only in women’s reproductive systems but also in their lives. Although Western society in particular uses menopause as an overall characterization of an aging woman, it actually goes much deeper than surface and physical changes. In fact, it is possible that the emotional changes that coincide with the transition may be what fuels creativity, particularly as a woman moves deeper into her life and her ‘self.’
Consider that creativity is not an easily defined construct, nor does does it manifest the same in everyone. Just like menopause.
Consequently, perhaps we should change the paradigm, shake up the system, shake up our systems, our beliefs, our viewpoints and our “selves.” Isn’t it time to view the transition the start of the second half of a life’s journey, where the lines that have been etched over the time period leading up to menopause become more jagged, looser and flexible, and where women finally start to allow themselves to “be” who they are rather than who and how others define them? Is it possible that menopause is an opportunity to expand how women view the world and their roles as opposed to shrinking into a self-imposed myopic state of nothing? Can hormone-driven mood swings and depression be spun into threads of passion, ink on paper, colours on a canvas, wherever and whenever the creative impulse strikes? Can we take the anger we feel as parts our bodies betray us and use that anger to fight harder for better, less dangerous menopausal remedies?
As I said, creativity takes many forms.
The opportunities are endless.
I am literally standing on the precipice of age 50 and swirling in the ‘peri’ of the menopause. I have made a promise to myself to take the reins and to stop asking for permission. I am ready to control as much of my journey as I can. My creativity may ebb and flow but at the end of the day, I’d like to believe that it is what I will use to guide the rest of my life’s journey.
You too, have a creative self and a creative soul just ready to emerge. What is it telling you? Moreover, when are you going to take charge of it and allow it unleash its beauty on the world?
Let it out. There really is no other choice.
Read MoreWednesday Bubble: I’m a Hot Momma!
What?!! A Hot Momma? I’m not a momma!
However, I am a proud finalist in the Hot Momma’s Project 2011 Case Study Competition. So the only bubble I’m bursting this week is the one that send messages to young women that they can’t excel where and how they want to.
The Hot Momma’s Project, founded by the incredible Kathy Korman Frey, is a self-described,” award-winning women’s leadership research venture housed at the George Washington University School of Business, Center for Entrepreneurial Excellence.” By exposing women and girls to online mentors and role models, The Hot Momma’s Project helps to “increase self efficacy” and open career opportunities. Indeed, research has shown that Frey’s model works, boosting self-confidence in women ages 18 and over by as much as 100% to 220%! Moreover, last January, the venture became the became the world’s largest women’s ‘teachable stories’ library, providing global access to stories of female role models and mentors, free of charge.
When I was growing up, my role models were the strong women in my family. My mother returned to education to get her MLS when I was in grammer school and went on to run one of the most esteemed corporate business libraries in NYC. My grandmother, who never received a college degree, was instrumental in leading and rallying women in her local community during WWII. I am fortunate that I had such great mentors to show me that women could excel and lead in roles traditionally owned by men.
There are many amazing women involved in the Hot Momma’s Project and I am thrilled to be part of it. I hope that you’ll read through each of the winning cases and share them with the young women in your life who are searching for direction. And if you would like to read more about my story, you can find it here.
I’ve said it before and I will say it again. If my work or contribution inspires one person a day, I am successful. I hope that every young woman across the globe can discover the journey that fulfills her passions as much as mine has.
Read MoreCancer…it’s still personal
Two years ago, I wrote a post about breast cancer and the fact that it was personal. Very personal. I want to share a portion of that post today and also add a few thoughts. The reason? It’s personal. Again.
Location: Department Store dressing room stall. Circa: late 1960s, early 1970s.
The characters: Me and my mom.
Scene: She is covering herself as she removes her shirt. I notice the scars. Lots of scars….to the side of one breast. I meet her eyes and she meets mine. Then I learn what the term ‘ breast cancer’ means.
My mother was diagnosed with breast cancer when she was 30. Thirty. Even today, less than half of women under the age of 40 are likely to develop breast cancer and the majority of cases are diagnosed after the age of 50. So, imagine the shock. What’s more, imagine the time. 1960… when breast cancer awareness wasn’t at the fore and people didn’t discuss it, when breasts and surrounding muscle were literally hacked off rather than carefully removing the tumor with clean margins, when many men left their wives after they became disfigured.
My dad didn’t leave. And my brother learned about it through a ‘friend’ in school who was teasing him.
I’ve spoken to my mother about her cancer, about the fear of it returning, and about how she feels about not being able to wear sleeveless tops or strengthen/firm those muscles even though she has exercised regularly her entire life. How she felt when my brother came home from school and asked her about it. How she feels now when a friend is diagnosed with cancer. Her answer is always pretty much the same.
But cancer can return. And even though this time it’s not in her breast, it looks like she’s may go down that road…again. And my heart is breaking. Because the fear in the tone of her voice says more than any words can.
She is afraid.
I don’t blame her. I would be afraid too.
Only this time? She’s 80, not 30 and although she’s tough as nails and very, very active, cancer has an insidious nature, sometimes too insidious. And even though in my heart of hearts I believe that she will be fine, I still feel awful about it.
In the past two years, I’ve had two friends who’ve been diagnosed with breast cancer, not for the first but second time. Recently, another close friend developed a very rare form of cancer and despite its severity, emerged in one piece and better than ever. Others in my life are four-, five-time survivors. Hell, even my dad has had bladder cancer since the early 90s. People survive. People move on with their lives. And yet sometimes, we lose people that we love.
Although it may be too early for a Mother’s Day post, it’s never too late to let someone know how you feel about them.
So Mom?
Thank you. The relationship has been a difficult one for most of our lives, threatened by personality and character and actions and words. Often, this road has not been an easy one. But you brought me into this life and I want you to know that despite all, the forks we’ve taken to get to this place have converged and our road is paved with mutual love and respect. I. Love. You. That is all.
And the cancer, I am not certain of the outcome this time. But I am certain of one thing: a mother’s love, and my mother’s love, is one of the most important gifts.
This one’s close to the bone. It’s close to my heart. It’s personal.
Read More50. Ain’t dead yet.
I was originally planning on writing a post about diet and exercise today. But a few things have transpired this week that pushed some deep buttons so I’ll save that post for Monday. Meanwhile? I have a wee bit of wisdom I’d like to impart:
50 ain’t dead yet.
Yup, I am well aware that 50 is past middle age for most people. And, if you are in your 20s or 30s or even early 40s, man, 50 is fucking old. Fifty is past its prime, ignorant of current developments in technology, politics, community, media, you name it. Fifty is mired in (dare I say it?!) the 1900’s; you know, the century before the Interwebz explosion, smart phones, tablets, Facebook, Twitter, Skype, Instant Messaging, email…
Fifty is just, well, O.L.D.
Guess what?
Beliefs like these are incorrect. In fact, if you are under the age of 50, you’ve got a whole lotta living to do and you ain’t done hardly any of what you will do…yet. Yeah, really. Hell, I’ve only done a small portion of what I intend to do before I leave this journey.
I turn 50 in less than a month. It’s been an interesting year, this 49th of mine. It’s been a wake-up call and I’ve approached it in ways that I’ve never approached anything…ever. I’ve gone from shock to defiance in less than a year. And I’ve finally embraced the following from every female friend of mine who’s turned 50 before me: you stop putting up with the shit. You don’t need to and you don’t want to and you don’t have to.
Fifty ain’t just a number; it is indeed past midlife. But if you think for one minute that anyone who is 50 or older is dead, think again. Because I’ve got a little secret:
Fifty is when you truly grow into yourself.
Since embarking on the Flashfree journey, I’ve written about the incredible disappearing woman. I’ve talked about appropriate dress for “women of a certain age” (which I continue to argue, is absolutely ridiculous). I have alluded to career opportunities being taken away as women grow older, especially in the film and entertainment industries. This topic is not new nor was my ire inspired by one individual, but actually, many. And so, do you wonder why women feel a wee bit angry when they receive the message — either indirectly or directly — that they’ve crossed the finish line?
Naysayers? Ignoramuses? Men who think 50 is past their prime and only date women whose ideal is so mismatched with the ideal of themselves? Take a look in the mirror; dare you! Especially you!
Guess what? I look in the mirror all the time. And while I don’t always like what I see on the outside, I do like what’s happening on the inside. A lot. So…50? It’s not the next 30, or 40; it’s the the next 50. And it’s pretty fucking phenomenal. Fifty is beautiful in ways that can only be understood when you reach that milestone. Just open your eyes and your hearts. ‘Cause you can’t take away my joy. Nuh uh. No way.
I ain’t dead. I’m just getting started.
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