The Old Me Is Coming Back
I’m in this phase of my life—let’s call it midlife, because that’s what women in our 50s seem to be called.
Or let’s call it menopausal women, because that’s also what we seem to be called. Whatever society wants to call it is fine by me.
What I more accurately call it is a phase of awakening.
I’m in an awakening phase like I’ve never experienced before. And if you’re a woman in your 50s, my hunch is that you can relate.
IYKYK. (I’ve always wanted to use that! 😂)
You might not understand that that is what’s happening to you yet, but if you’re anything like me, you’re questioning A LOT right now.
A lot about yourself. Your lifestyle. Our country. Our systems. Our culture. Just… questioning a lot here, tbh.
Which seems appropriate given the times we’re living in.
I am pretty much questioning my whole existence right now.
Maybe it’s because I’ve recently experienced someone my age die. Maybe it’s because I’m a deep thinker and processor and know there’s more to life than what’s on the surface. Maybe it’s because my kids are getting older, and in just a few quick years they’ll both be starting their own next phases of life.
Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because I’m longing for more.
And if I really think about it, I have always been a deep thinker and feeler. My awakening “phase” started long before midlife.
It’s just that in midlife, it’s impossible for me to ignore.
I find myself, on the daily, getting reacquainted with this new phase of life and what feels like a new version of me. Really allowing myself the freedom to change, evolve, and develop.
Except you know what?
This new version of me is really not new.
It’s the old me.
The younger version of me.
The old younger version.
That same woman who was 25 and carefree is coming alive again.
The one who was traveling and learning languages and putting on really classy but unique-to-me outfits. Not the trendy clothes my friends were all buying, but whatever I saw and picked up along my travels that I felt good in.
I was going out dancing on a regular basis, alone!
Because none of my friends were into Latin dancing or ballroom dancing.
I was, though.
So I’d get dressed up, pack my dance shoes in my purse, and walk or take the bus up to Capitol Hill in Seattle to my favorite dance spot.
I met people. I danced with many different people from all different backgrounds.
Never weird. Never romantically. Just lovers of dance dancing together.
I was truly living on my terms.
And I didn’t question it at all.
Never once.
I don’t remember caring about what anyone else thought—not my friends, not my family. I don’t remember ever feeling judged, either. I don’t remember anyone questioning me at all.
So why is it now, 25 years later, all the questioning?
It is such an interesting concept to think about having so much life experience under my belt, but at the same time having to undo so much conditioning that is also under my belt.
Maybe that’s part of the awakening, too.
Maybe getting older isn’t about becoming someone new.
Maybe it’s about remembering who you were before you learned to question yourself so much.
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