In the last post I said I haven’t had much to say lately. I realized today that isn’t actually true. I’ve had a lot to say, a lot of thoughts have been running loose in my mind. I just haven’t been certain where to put them. More than once in the past few weeks I’ve thought about picking up the phone and calling a friend because I really need to talk about where I am right now. I need to spill some things to a like minded and understanding soul. I need to be heard and maybe even receive a little feedback. I need someone to let me tell the truth. I've needed a phone call like that. I just haven’t picked up the phone and dialed anyone's number. Part of the reason is finding time for a lengthy phone call. Another part of the reason is not knowing exactly how to say what I need to say.
If I did call you, if I picked up the phone right now and dialed your number I would start the conversation with some small talk. I'd need that at first, you know, to break the ice, to give myself time to build confidence and yes, to convince myself that I can talk to someone else about what I've been feeling. I’d ask you how you’ve been. You’d ask me. We’d cover the basic topics that require occasional updates: work, family, motherhood, our creative lives. Then at some point, when the conversation waned and I'd run out of questions to throw at you, I’d take a deep breath then tell you the real reason I called, the real reason I needed to talk. I’d tell you that I’m struggling. I'd admit that what I'm struggling with seems shallow and petty and unimportant in the grand scheme of life and yet it's driving me nuts. I'd tell you I feel a little embarrassed even bringing it up but I really need to toss it around with someone. I’d tell you that this coming Saturday (the 17th) I turn 35 and I didn’t realize how that number would impact me. I’d tell you I never expected it—the way I’m feeling. And when I felt really courageous and comfortable and safe I’d tell you I’m afraid. I’d finally let all this I’ve been holding for the past few weeks, maybe months, all this that has been blocking my writing because it needs to be said and I’m not saying it, spill out from me, hoping when I finally hit that quiet place, that place where spilling isn’t necessary and just drip-dropping between the two of us would suffice, that you’d get it, that even though our situations, our fears, aren’t the same, there would be enough common ground for you to say, “oh honey, me too.”
You’d probably wonder why I didn’t say something sooner, why I’ve been holding it all in, keeping it to myself. You'd remind me that you're available any time. All I have to do is call. And I'd tell you I know that. I'd tell you I haven't called sooner because, well, I feel kinda silly. After all 35 is still young. And it is. But it’s also this caught in between place. This place where I find myself looking back and looking forward, both at the same time. It’s the age when you’re not old but you’re not as young as you used to be. It’s the age you begin realizing all the hot up and coming celebrities and musicians are now younger than you, as well as all the contestants in the Miss American pageant, who happen to be at least a good decade younger,and to your horror you notice you are older than every single woman the current Bachelor had to choose from. It’s that age you know you’re still young but you realize you are in fact aging, and youth, by societies definition, is behind you. It's that age you start to notice your parents are getting old and you even find yourself trying to figure out just how many more years you might have with them (as if that's possible) because time is unraveling faster than you can keep up with. Thirty years suddenly doesn’t seem like much time considering your 20th high school reunion is right around the corner and you remember high school like it was yesterday…or at least last week.
You might also wonder, although you might not say it aloud, why I didn’t blog about this. To you I seem to blog about everything and rarely hold back when something is really eating at me. You've even complimented me on my honesty and courage. I'd have to confess that, believe it or not, I actually don’t blog about everything. There are things I keep to myself. I'd confess there are things I fear posting because I never know who might be reading. I'd admit to editing myself. I think we all do when we put our writing out into this public forum. I'd tell you I'm protecting myself, making certain I don't fall out of anyone's good graces. Yes there are things I'm afraid to say out loud for fear of rejection, afraid that some of what I have to say is so bad it means I'm bad. You'd wonder who else I'm protecting and I'd have to agree that, yes, I am also protecting others, not wanting to hurt anyone I care about who might misunderstand or misinterpret what I write. I can't write about my feelings about my upcoming birthday without touching on the issue of genetics and the idea that women turn into their mothers, who turned into their mothers, who turned into their mothers, etc., that timeless story of crawling out from under our mothers, out of their shadows, to claim ourselves as unique individuals, more than just a product and reflection of our mothers, our families, but a combination of many forces, including an essence that is uniquely ours and like no other. While facts about family are generally neutral feelings about family can be very loaded. I'd tell you there is so much I feel uncomfortable posting, that it often feels like this whole piece of me I'm keeping quiet because I'm afraid to let it out.
We'd talk some about this idea, the idea of untangling ourselves from our families to find our individual selves. I'd tell you how lately I've been looking at my family, especially the women, and seeing what I have to look forward too, that tine honored DNA dance. I'd tell you that in my family the women tend to be overweight and as I slide towards my forties I have become more conscious of that and the fact that with age the metabolism tends to slow. Yes, I've been afraid of getting old, not because I resist being older but because I don't know that I'm looking forward to the changes in my body. I admit it. I'd tell you with more than a little trepidation that I want to be young and beautiful and that I don't like myself for wanting that because it seems so shallow.
When I admit that to you over the phone, you know, if I actually decided to go ahead and dial your number, more than likely you'd insist that I am beautiful, that I need to look at myself a little closer and see just how beautiful I truly am. And I'd tell you I know you're right. But I'd also tell you that I've been having a lot of beauty issues lately, that basically the idea and concept of beauty, or more accurately my beliefs about beauty, have really been doing a number on me lately. That may actually be what is at the core of my fears. At this point in our conversation I would begin spilling again, this time telling you everything I've been thinking about beauty, how it's been haunting me, and the fears I'm having. But, because you know me so well, you'd be able to pick up on the fact that I'm skirting around something I really want to say, that I'm coming at it from every angle and yet not saying it. You'd prod and I'd resist. I might even try to change the subject to ease my discomfort. Or more likely, I'd down play everything I've said and act like none of it really matters, telling you it was nothing really. I'd tell you I can't believe I got myself so worked up about things. I'd tell you I'm fine (that word, fine, a sure sign someone is in fact not fine). Hopefully you wouldn't buy that and you'd gently encourage me to tell the truth, ensuring me you won't judge me and that whatever it is I need to say you can take. And maybe I'd believe you and tell you what I'm afraid to say out loud.
Now if I really did call you we'd talk for hours about all of this, making certain I didn't leave anything unsaid. But because we aren't on the phone and you're having to sit there and read my thoughts I'll give you a break and come back tomorrow with more.
One last thing. If you are reading this and you know I have your number and that I'm not calling you please know I'm still so uncertain of how to say what I need to say. Instead of my calling you, you might need to call me and give me a gentle nudge. You might need to tell me "Okay girl spill it. Tell me what you need to say but aren't saying. Tell me the truth and not some watered down version of the truth. Let's get it out there and talk about it so it doesn't have so much power." I might need that invitation to enter a safe place.
i hear you. and i would love to talk to you about everything someday.
(((hugs)))
Posted by: jenica | May 27, 2008 at 01:59 PM
Michelle, I hear you! I was OK with turning 35, but this year as I approached 36 I had similar thoughts. I see the skin around my eyes slightly softer and I realized that I would never be the young me I have known for 35 years. It is like you grieve for that outward person. Then my thoughts tended then towards the question of 'what have I accomplished so far?' If I have only another 35 years to live, and 35 years goes by so fast, what can I accomplish? It is motivating to me to have a long term vision.
I think, as you talked about a few months back in your blog, that the concept of beauty and accomplishment are things that our society have drummed in us for so long through the media and education. So we are really products of our world. To the world youth, beauty and youthful accomplishment are like idols. But now through our life learning and discussions like this one and talking to others about our views, we are wiser and can overcome that if we commit to it. Recently I have been working on accepting my age and face and abilities, and when I revert to the old patterns of thought I claim them and seeing them for what they are. It is a tough road being who we are, western females. But then who said life would be easy?
thanks for being food for thought and being a such a good writer that you can lay out what is in your and your reader's minds so clearly and truthfully.
Posted by: shona | May 15, 2008 at 11:37 AM
"I need someone to let me tell the truth."
Boy is that spot on. I need that too. I think we all do, at times.
Sometimes the most difficult thing is being brave enough to ask someone to ask you how you are, how you really are.
You are so brave, and beautiful.
Posted by: tanaya | May 15, 2008 at 09:11 AM
i wish i had your number, or lived close by...
i would happily sit with you until you had spilled everything you wanted to say.
thanks for sharing yourself here. i offer you my support in any way i can
Posted by: chocolate covered musings | May 14, 2008 at 11:32 PM
my goodness hon, this could be me...the feelings, the way i talk sometimes, skirting the issue and not ever calling that person.
your writing is magical my dear one!
xoxo
s
Posted by: stef | May 14, 2008 at 09:40 PM
So many of the sentiments that you share here are ones that I could have written myself. I too turn 35 this year (in just over a month)and it is hitting me hard as well. I looked forward to 30 from the time I was 15, somehow instinctively knowing that my 20's were not going to be all they are cracked up to be. 30 was good.
35, on the other hand is 1/2 way to 40. I see the dark circles under my eyes now and I realize, like you shared here that while I am not even close to be old, I am not the age that I used to be and where the hell has the last 10 years gone anyway? I am starting to see my age. Somehow it feels more tangible to me now. I did not expect this. What is 35 anyway? I never anticipated it would end up being a type of age landmark.
And I understand the "feeling silly" part, but I am here to say that I too understand and I do not think it is silly at all...not one bit.
Sorry for the ramble, I just wanted to share that this is very real for me too and that I really "get it."
xoxo to you.
and p.s....also get you on the "what you are not talking about"....that is why I have been so incredibly quiet for the last five months.
Posted by: ceanandjen | May 14, 2008 at 04:14 PM
I will be turning 35 in June and have had similar feelings. I appreciate your honesty, especially at the end. I am currently needing to give a gentle nudge to someone I love very much. I think she very mcuh needs for me to be a friend in that way right now. And I will think of you when that happens today and hope you are receiving the kind of support you most need today as well.
Thank you as always for speaking from your heart.
Jennifer
P.S. New website/new name but same address: The Second List
Posted by: Jennifer | May 14, 2008 at 11:53 AM
ohhh you are really courageous to be so open..open enough to say even this much. i feel for you. i am no where hear 35 and in fact if i had your number i would want to call and just listen. it is such a comfort for me to receive a compassion and to feel heard. thank you for your honesty. it is a good thing and encourages me to do the same.
your friend, bird tweet robin from down the road
Posted by: bird tweet | May 14, 2008 at 09:58 AM
seems like I think yoru phone may be ringing a lot today, seem like I remember turning 36 (that was the year for me) and felt the urgent need to pivot either back in time or forward, but the 36 thing, was too uncomfortable, seems like things change around us all the time, seems like we change too, and sometimes all the change doesn't add up until a bit more time has passed, and then of course, more time has passed, seems like you are an amazingly brave and honest writer-woman-artist ...
Posted by: Liz | May 14, 2008 at 08:20 AM
i would call you too if i had your number because i know this feeling and remember it on my 35th birthday ... looking back, i made a whole lot of changes on my 35th birthday ... and now as my 40th birthday is six months away, i find myself right back there, the same only different.
sometimes the way i see myself in my head is not the reflection in the mirror and i wonder what i will see as my skin ages and wrinkles and my hips widen even more and my hair streams grey and my eyes sink into the folds and i can't imagine but i now know that will happen slowly over time. i also know that i will look back to now and realize how beautiful i was just as i do now when i look back to my twenties so i should find a way to rejoice in that beauty and strength. i know that i have more changes to make so i grow healthier and stronger so i can age in a way that allows me freedom.
gosh, i didn't mean to write so much, i think i could fill pages and pages on this topic that i very rarely actually talk about.
i hope you are able to talk to someone and that someone understands and listens and allows you to spill the hidden parts which need to find light.
xoxo
Posted by: darlene | May 14, 2008 at 08:18 AM
What a brave thing to do, to put your thoughts out there. It's one of the many things I admire about you, Michelle. So much of what you say here is familiar to me (and probably to many), how we approach an issue and then back off, how we are always "fine," how we somehow need the permission of another's invitation to allow the words to spill over.
What you are experiencing didn't hit me until a couple of years ago (a month or so before my 45th birthday) and didn't have so much to do with my age but where I was in life. I wish I'd been more connected to a network of supportive women at that moment; I wish I'd been more connected to myself through journaling at that moment because the process probably would have been smoother.
I had to laugh as I read your list of comparisons (the Miss America contestants, the up and coming starlets). My barometer was the picture on the crossword page of People Magazine; I somehow believed that the day I didn't know who that person was would be the day I crossed that imaginary line. Ugh! :)
I hope that someone who has your phone number will be the sounding board you need right now as you continue to untangle the complications of life.
Posted by: Star | May 14, 2008 at 07:31 AM
We will talk real soon. I have a lot to learn and I will try my best doing that with you. Love you Michelle. Talk to you soon and see you on your Birthday. Seems more to me like my birthday since I get to spend it with someone so special. XOXOXOXO
Posted by: Irma | May 14, 2008 at 05:47 AM
No I don't have your phone number and if I did I would call and tell you that on my 35th birthday, I crawled under the sheets and cried for reasons that took a few weeks to figure out. So, if someone who does have your phone number calls you and you can figure things out during that one phone call, you are one up on me. Blessings to you wonderful woman and make a lot of tea today...sounds like your phone might be ringing all day :)
xox darlene b/sis
Posted by: Darlene | May 14, 2008 at 04:40 AM