Middle Age

Heartbreak

/ stella elaine / 2 Comments

Heartbreak was not my intended topic this week, but sometimes you wake up with something completely different weighing on your mind.  I woke up Monday morning, and like I do most weekday mornings, I tuned into a local morning talk show.  It’s my way of easing into the day.  This morning show was different.  I knew right away something was off.  The host was somewhat baring his soul.  Some form of heartbreak was taking place in his life.  He stated that he and his family needed prayer, and he would be taking a break from the show.  I have no idea what the cause of heartbreak is that had him expressing real and raw emotion.  There are so many layers to heartbreak and grief.  It’s different for all of us, but any of us who have experience with it, know it when we see and hear it.  Heartbreak comes to us all at some point in our lives, and more than likely will rear its ugly head when we least expect it.  It will leave you battle scarred, but it also makes us more sympathetic  and caring human beings.

My first experiences with heartbreak came at an early age.   I was almost six years of age when my parents divorced.  My relationship with my father was from then on fractured at best.  Heartbreak and grief do not always stem from a death.  They can be brought on by situations that are beyond our control. Then I lost my paternal grandfather when I was 12.  By that age my mother had pretty much cut off all contact with my Dad and his family.  I was not allowed to even attend his funeral.  Poof…. people I loved were taken out of my life.  I tucked the hurt in the deepest crevices of my heart.  My maternal grandfather died when I was 23 years old.  That was my first up close and personal experience with cancer, and it’s devastating effects.  I could be brought to tears just thinking about it years after he passed.  Later on, the deaths of my Dad and sister affected me differently.  My Dad’s death left me with unanswered questions and unresolved feelings that I ultimately came to terms with..  My sister’s terminal illness and death left me with immense grief and an understanding of loss that I had never experienced before.  It has also left me feeling as if I had lost my bearings. I am still trying to work my way through that path of grief.

There are countless sources of heartbreak.  It can be death of a loved one or friend, loss of a dream and the process of letting go, betrayal by a loved one, the end of a relationship or friendship, terminal illness, a loved ones bad choices, disappointment, losing your home to a natural disaster, and the list can go on and on. Heartbreak can be walking around right in front of us.  A drug addicted or mentally ill family member can break your heart a million times.  It can often be the equivalent of watching someone dying in slow motion.  Then, you see so many children being neglected by their drug addicted, mentally ill, and neglectful parents.  You think to yourself.  Where does it end?  None of us are exempt.  Heartbreak is an equal opportunist.  We are better for our struggles or we should be.  When I say I understand, it may not entail an understanding of your particular situation, however, heartbreak is heartbreak.  If it is enough to make you cry, make you feel like you’ve been sucker punched, want to curl up in bed and pull the covers over your head,  and that the rug has been pulled out from underneath you, I understand.  Right now I have scars from previous heartbreaks,  and I have a large scab from a recent heartbreak.  Just like any scab, you think it’s healing, and you might pick at it.  It still bleeds.  More time needed for the healing.  One day those scabs will turn into scars.  Some are visible and others are naked to the eye, but there all the same.  

As I have discussed in previous posts, my most recent heartbreak occurred towards the end of last year.  It didn’t happen suddenly.  It was in the making for over two years as I watched my sister battle cancer like the fiercest warrior.  The past few months I have taken each day as it comes.  There have been good days, and there have been days when I really have to dig deep.  I am not the same person I used to be nor will I ever be again.  I am a walking example of heartbreak, and the metamorphosis that follows.  Someone told me the other day that I did not seem happy.  My response was “for the most part, I’m not.”  I am in transition.  Trying to find my bearings again.  Recalibrating.  Doing a lot of inner reflection.  Deciding for me what truly matters.  I am growing and evolving.  Continually trying to process one of the greatest heartbreaks of my life.  I am letting go of how I thought the next chapter of my life would be.  Who would be by my side.  At some point, the hurt will ease and not be as strong as it once was.  One day, I will tuck that hurt in another crevice of my heart along with the others from so many years ago.  I will find happiness again and my sense of humor that has always served me well.

Throughout this transformation, I will become stronger and more resilient.  I will continue to love my family and friends with the same intensity I always have, if not more.  Heartbreak makes you acutely aware of what can be lost.  Cling to each other, love one another, take deep breaths, indulge in moments of reprieve from this frenetic world.  Live a purposeful life and be a better person because of the heartaches you have not only endured, but survived.  Heartbreak in this life is inevitable, but so are moments of joy.  As the saying goes, “you have to take the good with the bad.”  Take one day at a time.  Know that there will be good and bad days as you process and wrap your head around what has happened or is presently going on in your life.  Be empathetic and compassionate when you can.  Exude love.  This world could use a lot more of it.  Most of all, take time to love yourself.

All the best,

Stella Elaine

Don’t Blink

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I sat in the waiting room of my youngest son’s Pediatrician earlier this week as I have done many times before with him and his oldest brother.  I looked around the waiting room surrounded by young mothers and a few fathers with their tiny babies and rambunctious toddlers.  Let me just tell you.  I was feeling my age.  I thought to myself…”you’re probably old enough to be a mother to some of the parents you are looking at.”  My motherhood journey had started in the early 90’s, and here I am in 2021 still rocking on.  Of course, my babies are now taller than me.  I frequently assure them that I can still take em’ out if need be.  I felt somewhat out of place sitting there.  I was no longer trying to soothe a baby or wrestle a toddler.  I had a somewhat moody teenager sitting next to me.  He had already told me he was getting too old to be in there with all the babies.  How well I knew.  Somewhere along the way, I had blinked, and now I had one son grown, and my youngest was on the fast track to being grown.

The parents that surrounded me in the waiting room that day seemed so foreign to me.  Most of the mothers I saw were young and had tattoos on their arms and legs.  I was sitting there with not the first one.  Must be a generational thing.  I thought.  For one thing, I don’t remember having the extra money at their age for expensive colorful high definition tattoos.  Secondly, tattoos were not that popular when I was younger.  Somewhere along the way, mothers have changed.  Maybe in their appearance, but I felt confident not the love and bonding that takes place between any good mother and her precious child.  A young mother sitting beside me with her mask on was trying to soothe her two month old baby.  A mother across the room was trying to hold her toddler son in check.  Those toddlers can be squirrely at times.  Another mother surrounded with four well behaved children was trying to fill out all the paperwork that is required these days.  There I sat with my very chill 15 year old son.  I felt like I had achieved an optimal level as a mother.  I remember those days.  Attempting to console and pacify my little babies.  Later on when they reached those very active toddler years, I remember chasing them around the examination rooms.  Trying to make them behave while waiting on the doctor to come in. My oldest son would accept his shots like a stoic martyr, and my youngest would fight like a wild banshee, and scream bloody murder.   Needless to say, I was a nervous wreck by the time we left.  The joys of motherhood.  You know what?  I’d all do it all over again. 

I was almost 23 years old when I had my first son.  I had absolutely no idea what to expect pregnancy wise or motherhood wise.  It’s one of those things.  You shut your eyes and dive right in.  Something along the lines of being tried by fire.  Motherhood is a sink or swim situation.  Some days you swim like you’re in the Olympics.  Other days you’re on autopilot doing the backstroke.  Then, there are days you are treading water.  Trying to hold it all together.  Sinking is not an option.  You have little human beasts (did I say that?!  I meant beings.) depending on you.  Are you tired?  Beyond tired?  Guess what?  You keep going.  You find an inner strength you never knew you had.  My first pregnancy catapulted me into motherhood with an emergency cesarean after 15 hours of labor.  I was in the hospital for a week.  I thought my nurse had lost her mind when she came into my room the following morning telling me I needed to get up, and walk around.  My response was..”are you aware I just had a cesarean?”  She responded “yes honey, now get up and walk around.”  No rest for the weary has been my Mama mantra ever since.

Almost twelve years later I had my second son.  By then, I had come close to having a hysterectomy, dealt with fertility issues, and had experienced a miscarriage.  His birth was supposed to be by a planned cesarean, but our “little man” decided to come early.  I was awake for his birth as opposed to his brother’s birth.  I remember crying when they placed him by my head so I could see him for the first time.  I don’t think I truly believed I was having another baby until I laid eyes on him.  He was such a tiny fella compared to his brother.  My oldest son weighed almost 9 lbs at birth, and here my second son didn’t even weigh 4 ½ lbs.  How in the world would I care for such a small baby?  I quickly learned as I had with my first child.   All babies need, regardless of size, is lots of  love, care, and food.  Those are the most important factors in raising happy babies.  Here’s an extra tidbit…let them know from the get go that they will never be too old for a hug from their Mama.  Love never fails.  

One of the sweetest visions you will ever lay your eyes on is that of a sleeping baby, toddler, or small child. I remember rocking my babies singing every song I ever knew to get them to sleep.  Many times, I rocked myself to sleep.   I laugh at the image of a sleeping toddler.  My oldest would fight a nap every time.  I remember laying down with him. Me needing a nap just as much as he did, if not more.  He would toss and turn.  Wanting to get out of the bed.  I was adamant.  He needed a nap, and I needed a nap, and also  some moments of peace.  In the end, we would both fall asleep.  I would wake up before him, and there he would lay.  The picture of peaceful serenity.  Of course, in all reality, it was the calm before the toddler Tasmanian devil woke up. 

I have always said that you need a healthy sense of humor to get through this life.  So…here I’ve been raising two boys for the last 27 years.  I grew up with a sister and two female cousins.  My poor grandfather had been outnumbered by all of us females growing up. Like any good man, he took it in stride.  He did a good job in preparing me for my life raising boys.   I grew up shooting hoops, riding my bicycle, building forts, playing softball and kickball, mowing the grass, learning to drive a truck,  and fishing.  I was never a girly girl so being a “boy” mom was fine by me.  To be surrounded by good looking men folks the rest of my life is no bad thing.  Although, they can be aggravating at times.  For the most part, keep them fed, and all will be well.

 As mothers, we all go through trials that can break our spirit if we let them. Days when we could easily stay in bed.  Nights that you think will never end with babies that are sick or refusing to stay in bed.  It’s during those tough times that you draw on your inner strength, put your big girl panties on, and push through.  Those are the years you come into your own.  Over time, the uncertain woman that you used to be will blossom into a woman that can slay dragons, if need be. Believe me, there will be many “dragons” along the way.  Both of my sons have been the truest of blessings to me and my husband.  Children give you focus like nothing else in this world.  My husband frequently  jokes that we’ll be using walkers at our youngest son’s graduation.   I’ve got news for him…I will be moonwalking across the graduation stage when our youngest graduates!  Common core curriculum about killed me!  It will be time for one heck of a road trip! 

This is and will alway be The Good Stuff. 

All the best,

Stella Elaine

Trace Adkins – You’re Gonna Miss This

Middle Aged?…..When Did this Happen?!

/ stella elaine / 1 Comment

I was reading an article when I woke up one morning earlier this week.  Something I do most mornings in an effort to ease into the day.  My sweet disposition has to percolate and come to fruition like my morning coffee.  My reading that morning referenced middle aged people.  It got me to thinking…what age is considered middle aged?  Well….let me tell you.  Middle age covers the ages from 45-65.  It was a light bulb moment for me!  I’ve been middle aged for five years, and didn’t know it!!  That might explain some things.  Some changes in my body, my mind, my taste, and my attitude.  Recently, my husband and I were sitting on the couch one evening after work talking.  I made some remark.  His reply was “you’ve gotten a little bit salty.”  I guess he was talking about my sassiness which is more prevalent these days.  I later told a friend close to my age what my husband had said.  Her response was…”well, if I see a Salt Life sticker on the back of your SUV, it’s safe to assume it’s not about your love of the beach.”  We both laughed.  So with all that said, let’s talk about what these middle years bring to the table now that I’m apparently five years deep into this chapter of my life. 

The focus always seems to be on the Big 50, but now I am thinking the emphasis needs to be placed on the Big 45.  Attention…you have now entered the Middle Years of your life!   There’s a newsflash that would have gotten my attention.  Sure, I’ve been feeling my age.  Hearing the snap crackle pops when I get up in the morning.  Don’t get me started on the gray hair.  The last few years I’ve gone through phases of accepting it’s arrival to… it’s time to cover that mess up.  Don’t even mention my eyesight.  I recently thought to myself…I need to put a magnifying glass in my kitchen to read medicine bottles, recipes, and instructions on that box of brownie mix. My eye doctor asked me last year if I was ready to transition to bifocals.  I thought to myself…”have you lost your mind man?!” You’re talking to a person who was in denial at the age of 30 when I was told I needed glasses. Giving no thought to the fact that both my parents and all of my grandparents wore glasses.  I even teased my husband when the AARP junk mail started showing up when he turned 50 a couple of years ago.  I was oblivious that 50 was sneaking up on me, and middle age completely sneaked (snunk sounds better down South) up on me, and had been flying really low on my radar. This new, at least to me, revelation got me to thinking.  What has happened in my life the past five years to the point that I completely missed the memo that I was now “officially” middle aged.

 A few major events did happen in 2016.  My husband and I sold our “dream” house that we had built 12 years earlier.  It had taken us three years to sell.  Maybe subconsciously, we sensed change was in the air.  Middle age was approaching, and our dreams were changing. Dreams, hope, and goals are what have carried my husband and I through thirty plus years of marriage.  Our dreams may change, but our commitment to pushing forward never diminishes.  I remember the conversation between my husband and I.  We loved our neighborhood, but decided we were not neighborhood people.  It had been a great neighborhood to raise our boys in, but we were ready for some wide open spaces.  My husband loves animals and  working in the yard.  We lived in a small trailer in a trailer park when we first got married.  No..we were not trailer trash, and if we were, we were classy trailer trash. Making our way in the world.  No mama and daddy money.  We didn’t have much, but I guarantee you we had the best yard in the park, and our yard has been that way everywhere we have ever lived since.  We also thought a move to the country would be good for our boys.  Fishing, hunting, and dirt road living.  I know it’s not for everyone, but it is for us.  So here we are still working on making that dream a reality.  We will hopefully build the home that will carry us into our Senior years (say what?!) in the near future.  In 2017, my mother went through a rough medical patch.  To the point that my sister and I were looking at personal care homes for her.  My sister and I were having to help our mother with grocery shopping, doctor visits, paying bills, etc.  Thankfully, our mom bounced back, but I still help her as needed.  Then came a major blow in 2018 as I have discussed in my previous blog posts.  My sister was diagnosed with colon cancer at the age of 42.  That turned our world upside down. Funny how things can really go sideways in a very unexpected way.  As a family, we are still coming to terms with her loss this past November.  You might say I was too distracted by life to even realize this new juncture of life had crept up on me. We have lost family and friends that we loved dearly. These life events change you.  They shape you.  I was busy living and surviving.

So where are you at 50?  Did middle age sneak up on you?  By 50, you should have enough life experience under your belt to know what truly brings you joy and contentment.  That doesn’t mean that you will not continue to grow and evolve as a person, but you should have a better understanding of yourself. It won’t be like your teens and 20’s where you were floundering around trying to find your way.  I look back on some of my decisions wondering what in the world was I thinking?!  I tell myself.. “You were doing the best you knew how.” I was still in training.  I’m sure we can all say we are not the same people we once were.  By this time in life most of us have given marriage a go at least once.  More for some people.  You have a better idea of what you will and will not tolerate in a relationship and life in general.  I know it took years for my husband and I to fine tune the marriage we have now, and I can honestly say it’s been worth it.  Most of us at this age have children. I have two sons.  My boys are older, and don’t need me as much as they used to.  However, they are quick to ask me to cook their favorite meal or dessert.  Gotta feed the beasts.  Some of my peers even have grandchildren. I’m not rushing that one for the time being.  A lot of us have parents that are older, and now require help from us.  So…there is a constant pull from family, children, our parents, and work.  It is always about finding balance.  Keeping all the balls that you’re juggling in the air. 

 At this age, I find myself withdrawing from the rat race.  I don’t feel the need to impress anyone, and I am not impressed by much.  However, I am very impressed by  well-mannered and courteous people with a work ethic.  Something in short supply these days.  I thoroughly enjoy my morning commute once I have dropped my youngest son and his friend off at school. Time for me. Time to pull myself together and brace myself for the crazy demanding work day ahead.  Time for coffee and a tidbit of a podcast.  Podcasts?  That is a fairly new favorite way to pass time for me.  Lunch time?  No fanfare for me.  When I do go to lunch with a friend or two in my core group,  we are truly engaged in discussing what is going on in each other’s lives.  I could care less about their new shoes or pocketbook (or is it purse?).  We discuss our children, our jobs, our frustrations, and our joys.  Most days you can find me in solitude on my lunch break.  Sitting in my car, eating my lunch, and maybe watching a Cooking with Brenda Gantt video. It doesn’t bother me one bit to sit right there in my car by myself.   I would call this “me” time.  Time to veg out, but it’s really not.  It’s me tuning into what I really want. Taking time to soothe my sometimes weary soul.  This age brings about a better understanding of yourself and those you choose to surround yourself with because face it, we don’t have time or patience for anything else.  

Fifty…the BIG 50.  The first quarter of my middle years are done.  I know where I’ve been, and I have a better sense of where I am going.  Even with that, I also know that our paths can diverge or divert to another route at a moment’s  notice.  As the saying goes..”Life happens.”  It’s in the happening that you should find your balance.  Your equilibrium.  Even though times may be uncertain, you’ve been in uncharted waters before, but you now have the knowledge and experience to guide you through.  Some might call it getting a little long in the tooth.  I’ll take that.  I’ve earned it.  Choppy waters are not unknown to me.  I do know I have always come out on the other side.  Maybe a little worse for wear, but I made it. I bounce back stronger than ever.  I have survived every bad day and event that has happened in my life thus far.   I’m going to hit this 6th decade of my life head on.  Embrace it and keep moving forward.  There’s no going back.

All the best,

Stella Elaine