Living in the middle years is one of the most challenging chapters of my life so far. My visions of midlife were quite different from the actual reality I am now living. The biggest surprise is the breathtaking range of emotions I can experience in one day. I can demonstrate this by describing a shopping trip I recently took to Costco.
It was a relaxing Saturday morning, and I followed my son and his friends to get a tuxedo rental for prom. I quickly realized that he didn’t want my input, so I left him and decided to explore Costco instead. It was my first time joining and I was overwhelmed by the herd of people exiting the building en masse with carts loaded with everything–food, storage containers, flowers, bottled water. I made my way to the counter to begin the membership process but after standing there for about ten minutes, realized I wasn’t really in line, so I had to start all over at the back of a line that was forming on the other side of the counter. This brings me to my first point about midlife: the confusion. Sometimes, everyone seems to know what is going on and I find myself standing aside, mouth agape, trying to figure it out.
Anyway, after making my way through the membership process, I retrieved a cart and began my journey. It was totally packed with people; there were cart jams on every aisle. Children were screaming, parents were flustered, workers trying to push through the crowds with boxes, so I just chose a less crowded aisle, began humming a soft tune, and meandered around. I saw families with carts packed with food, the type of things I used to buy when my four children were all home, like a box of 64-count granola bars. Except now, I cannot buy items like this, because there is no one to eat 64 granola bars at my house, they would expire before I got through half of them.
So I just kept walking and humming. I noticed the price of diapers, formula, and fruit snacks, and silently thanked the gods that I didn't need to buy those items anymore. After about thirty minutes of excruciating over-stimulation, I decided I’d had enough and checked out. I felt like I often do in public–where is my place now? I am 50-ish woman with nothing to buy, nowhere to be, and nothing that I really need to do. I often feel like a pair of worn shoes. Not the totally worn out kind, just the toe-scuffed, scratched-up pair that you put in the back of your closet and mostly forget about in favor of a new, shiny pair in the latest trendy colors. Then one day you find the worn shoes and you wear them because they are comfortable and they don’t look too bad yet, but you put them in the back of the closet when you are done. Going to Costco on a Saturday afternoon reminded me of this.
I decided my next stop would be At Home, a home goods retailer. The atmosphere was much quieter, and a welcome reprieve from the zoo-like environment I had just come from. I gravitated to the Easter clearance area where I started picking through the ribbon with little carrots printed on it, mossy bunnies, and beaded placemats. Another midlifer began digging in next to me. That’s one thing I have noticed: we midlifers gravitate to clearance racks, looking through the stuff no one wanted when it was in season. That is kind of how it feels at times, like an out-of-season clearance rack item. After grabbing a few things I did not need, I began wandering around the store, looking at nothing in particular until I saw “The Aisle,” the one with all the baby decor. I tried not to look, but that sad, blueish feeling came over me. It used to wash all over me like a wave, but now it is more like a light rain sprinkling.
I saw an expectant mother at the end of the aisle picking out things for her nursery. I noticed the soft colors, a basket shaped like an elephant, a stuffed unicorn, bedding with dinosaurs…and my heart began to hurt. As I was exiting the aisle, I saw a yellow throw blanket with pom pom balls around the edges, and knew if I still had babies that was exactly the blanket I would have bought. But I put it in my cart anyway, just because.
After overcoming the trauma of the baby aisle, I meandered over to the picture area and that is when I saw her. This super hot woman with her male companion, wearing a leather jacket and ripped tights that showed off her perky everything. I saw her pick up a very modern-looking picture and say, “This is badass!”. I went to another aisle and looked through pictures with flowers and beachscapes. What just happened? Another midlife moment did, the one where you realize you’re not “all that” anymore, you’re not trendy, and when you reach down to pick something up from the floor, the fat rolls wrap their squishy arms around you and hold on tight.
I left the store with Easter clearance items and the yellow baby blanket and made my way home from the emotionally draining shopping trip. I wasn’t really sad, but it is hard to shake the feeling that you don’t know where you belong anymore. I found myself in prayer on my journey home, and continue to seek God for wise counsel on his next steps and purpose for this chapter of life. I know my story is still being written, but I wish midlife had come with a warning label.
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