Making the First Step

The journey started several years ago. I'd turned 49 and it slowly dawned on me that I was entering the 'second half' of life. So many questions suddenly came to mind and I didn't have a clue where to turn for answers or any possible advice or directions. Well, okay - I did the basics - did the medical trips you're supposed to do when you hit or are about to hit the 'Big 5-0'. I'm in decent health, although, probably like everyone else, I was told to 'try to manage your stress better'. 

Easier said than done in these times, even five or six years ago! 

Oops, yeah, I'm 55. I'm the speed limit no one wants to drive. 

It's been a series of 'two steps forward, one step back, a couple to the side, slide down the hill a bit, leap forward' and 'where the heck am I now?' Professional life started getting nuttier than usual. I worked for the federal government. All the rumors you hear? The truth and reality can be worse. And better. Personal life was a rollercoaster that sent me reeling. Suddenly it seemed as if nothing I did mattered, influenced anything or made a bit of difference in my life. 

Looking back, I realize I was in a depression, mild mostly, but definitely with some very bad moments. Two things kept me going - my sons and my cats. If you ask my sons, they'll (sort of) joke that the cats come first. Well, my sons can take care of themselves! Lol. Kidding. Five years ago, I had three cats that kept me on a routine whether I liked it or not - breakfast at a certain time, etc. They understood that when the dishes were done at night, I made the coffee and then they got their evening treats. Little things that keep you going. 

My sons were scattered about the country, and the world at times. Thanks to modern technology, I could send a quick text - usually every couple weeks to all three of them - 'Pulse and breathing check. Everyone still with me? What's happening?' And within a day or so, depending on schedules, they would each chime in with a couple sentences about their life. I really try not to be a 'hovering mother' who clings but it's not easy. Texting helps and every few weeks one calls. Thank heavens they understand me! 

But still, I was going through what I'm calling the Fifties Fog. I don't know if it was hormones or chemicals in the body or both, but sometimes it just seemed as if I was wading through life. Which also contributed to the depression. 

The first step that helped me was going back to those things that had always brought me joy - gardening, writing, crafts of some sort. I lived in an apartment so I first checked if I could put containers on the small deck. That was approved, as long as I kept it neat of course. Planning and preparing helped through the DC winter. Writing - oh, I'm a storyteller! If I'm breathing, then some part of my mind is working on a story. But life had gotten in the way. I shoved life back. And crafts. I started loom knitting again. The cats supervised and assisted in everything. They were particularly interested in the yarns.

While exploring the best container plants, I stumbled across something that truly started me on a new path. I've wandered a bit from the trail, but generally return to it - smaller living. Some call it 'minimalism', but I found that a bit extreme. I read everything I could - no hardship as I love doing research. And slowly, I went through things. If it was broken, toss. If I hadn't worn it in two years, donated. That process didn't happen overnight, but as I did it, I worked on other parts of life. 

It was as if removing the 'dead weight' for lack of a better term had opened up room for me to think about other things. 

I still had far to go, but, as Confucius might put it, my journey had started. 

I had no idea where I was going. But I have a better idea now because of that first step of tossing things.