I know this is a funny picture but it is so representative of what risk looks like in midlife. A carry on bag and a borrowed neck pillow from my elementary school kid. Yup. That’s what risk looks like right now.
I preach a lot on here about stepping into doing what is authentic to you. Pushing aside the social conditioning of the world and saying yes to that inner voice. Well guess what? One of the things I always try to do is practice what I preach and share how it went. So what you see here is my carry on bag. In this picture, I am at the airport after a full day of work, waiting for a plane to take off at 9pm towards the next big thing in my life.
Sometime in my youth I started writing books in my head. I started making ideas for how I wanted to change my little corner of the world. And my little corner felt really bleak. It had one actively alcoholic parent and one that was sober, yet ever so invested in the co-dependent cycle of accepting her alcoholic husband as he was and the “life” they had promised to one another, with five kids in tow. That’s right! It was in that place where these ideas of mine were in their infancy.
And people I wanted to sing it, say it, write it, orate it, teach it, and preach it (that last one pissed me off because as a girl I was not given that chance in my family of origin’s religious affiliation to be a preacher). In my youth, my mind started to run. And I have done a million marathons in my mind since then. So many books, short stories, lyrics written within the boundaries of my intellect. And this quiet Voice inside me has beckoned me for so long.
In my teenage years the voice started to kick up. It told me you are not the wisdom of just you, but generations. You guys!?!? This was decades before I knew about intergenerational transmission of trauma, legacies, or our ability to tap into a collective unconscious that gives us the wisdom of many. I barely had my driver’s license and I distinctly remember a conversation with my girlfriends when I told them I would write a book someday about “All the women in me”. No lie! This actually happened!
Then there was my twenties. The voice was never dormant. Always narrating for me in the background how I would someday write books, help people journey through their suffering like mine, and of course all while I felt my chief job in the world was to rescue my mother and placate my father. My mom finally and officially left him for the last time, during this decade of my life. I mean people…this story doesn’t get more real. Here I am, barely figuring out how to ride a plane, graduate college, and God forbid find a career and someone to have a family with. But I did it. All of it. Don’t tell ANY member of my family that they can’t deliver. You will lose. EVERY DAMN TIME!!! Yet, my family role was still to be a third parent, the third adult in the household with my two younger siblings, and take care of all the adults and any kids in need. The inner Voice turned soft over this time. Not gone…just very hushed.
Then my thirties came roaring in. I was 29 when my mom was diagnosed with cancer. I was her primary caretaker for a good portion of her three year battle. I entered into my 30th year on this earth knowing that I wouldn’t make it out of this decade in tact. My mom would not make it with me. And I didn’t understand that. Why her? Why the one that I called my best friend (which by the way my psychologist self now knows was enmeshment and not healthy, but my thirty-some year old self didn’t realize that)? Why wasn’t it my dad? He was the alcoholic. He was the one that made bad choices. Well the Universe…she heard me. And at 31 I watched my mom take her last breath. Then 9 months later, when I was just 32, my Dad’s alcoholism had finally caught up with him and he passed away as well. And my inner Voice? She felt broken by all this. She knew it would take a minute to come back from all of it. I mean, I had a kiddo, a divorce, another marriage, and a new kiddo under my belt too during this same decade. It was a rocky road.
So when my forties came I thought for sure it was time to listen. Time to lean into the Voice that wanted me so badly to give the wisdom and gifts bestowed on me to all those women who had set aside their goals and dreams for the safe life of doing what was expected of them. But I had married again in my thirties, subconsciously seeking to fix the wounds of my parents. And that was nagging at me. Don’t worry…at age 43 that endeavor had also blown up in my face and this time the Universe was not playing. She left me a new child to help me stay focused on what was important to me, knowing my mothering was a life vest for me. Yet, my son moved in with his dad in this time. And honestly rightly so! He did not need to witness his mother’s life burning to the ground. But he does get to see the Phoenix of the new version that has arisen. So yet again, another marriage failed, another kid to be a single parent to. People…I let that life of old burn. I let the ideas that were assigned to me of what my life “should” look like, crumble. I let that old story end…and the Voice got louder and more insistent. She was urging me in my growth to start sharing. Not when a book was ready. She wanted me to share now…share raw…and share authentically. So I listened and followed suit.
By my mid-forties I was ready for change in my life. I was ready to take back all the things I had pushed aside for so long, in an effort to live others’ versions of what they thought my life should be. I laughed, I cried, and felt my anger, so that I could start to write, record, and share my wisdom and the generations of wisdom of those before me with the world.
Fast forward to a carry on bag and borrowed neck pillow in the Minneapolis Airport. I have taken some major leaps these past years. Investing time, money, and good old sweat into LearnToLoveYourStory.com. I am finally giving an outer voice to the inner Voice who has been with me all these decades. It has been a transformational experience for me to invest in myself this way.
So what does risk look like in midlife? It looks like this. It looks like a middle aged woman, with a tired old story, who transcended her lived experience to help you transcend yours. It looks like putting my hard earned money where my mouth is and putting together a website, courses, and new business line to bring this knowledge to more people than just the hundreds I can see across the couch in my therapy office. It looks like putting my face online every week, week after week, to tell you this wisdom that lives in my soul. It looks like bloopers and swearing, because I am authentic and want to show you that even a messed up old lady like me has something to share with the world.
I am not perfect. I am not the only authority on middle age. I am not an expert in all things. What I am is myself. And what I have to tell you is my story is your story. I want to share with you what I have experienced, learned, studied, and practiced in the past two decades to help shave some years off of your suffering through living a life you think you “should”…that’s “safe” and inauthentic to the Voice inside you. I am willing to take the risk with you…are you ready to join me?
If so, sign up for FREE Group Coaching For a Year. You won’t regret it. This is step one on your journey to Learn To Love Your Story.
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