Any Shiny Thing - Life after 50

Midlife Fiction

A Poem of Empowerment

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Hush, hold your breath
Don’t move, I can feel you
The heart waits
The mind waits
Delirious, cacophonous noise awaits movement
Dissonant chords, twanging vibrato
Delicious, drumming and humming to
Invisible, silent beats
Don’t speak, she said
Don’t make a sound, she pled
She waits
A limb quakes
I’m afraid
I’m frail
I’m full
I’m overwhelmed.
Don’t breath, she said
Her exhale rocks the sea
but all she said was
hear
me.

Isn’t that fantastic? The poem is entitled “A Voice” and it’s by Kathy Shattuck who is in my critique group. I don’t feel comfortable critiquing poetry, because poetry to me is like art – I read it for the emotional impact I feel (or don’t).

I’d like to tell you what it makes me feel, and see: Most of the poem is waiting quietly, as if a curtain is about to go up, when people shush each other good-naturedly in excitement and anticipation. The a woman steps forward, suddenly finding her strength and voice, her breath rocking the sea with the power of this simple demand: Hear me.

Kindle readers can contact me at Lmspreen@yahoo.com.

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You Look MAHvelous

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I was standing in a mini-mart the other day waiting to pay for gas, and the beautiful young woman in front of me was complaining to the cashier that even though she’s 30, she always gets carded. I said, “It’s because you’ve got a face like a peach.” It just flew out of my mouth, and then I was glad, because she got it. The girl’s eyes got real big and her mouth opened in this gigantic smile as she thanked me. For a second I thought she was going to hug me.

Recently I was walking out of an office and a woman was walking in, and we held the doors for each other and then laughed, and as I went through, I told her the truth:  “You look wonderful.” She did. She had gone to a lot of trouble on her hair and makeup, and her outfit and jewelry were to die for. “Thank you,” she said, beaming. I think when you hand someone a spontaneous, honest compliment like that, it’s so unexpected that you get extra mileage out of it. Maybe that’s because the recipient knows in her gut that a total stranger wouldn’t say that unless it was sincere.

I read about this a long time ago, in a now-defunct magazine called “Lears – for the Woman Who Wasn’t Born Yesterday.” The writer said she was standing on a street corner in NYC, and this woman marched up, dressed to the nines, very tall, very put together, quite intimidating. Everybody was watching her, and her eyes were narrowed, as if daring someone to whistle. She stopped next to the writer, who said, “You look magnificent!” The tigress melted.

Of course we’re afraid to compliment strangers. It’s a weird old world out there, so we’re more guarded, but I think that makes it even nicer when it happens. Go ahead, take a chance. Tell another woman she looks great. Say it with conviction and a smile. Yes, it takes a bit of courage, but why not generate a burst of positivity in the world? The worst she can do is ignore you. The best that can happen is that you’ll feel great about yourself all day long.

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Do You Ever Think About What YOU Want?

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What drives you? What do you want out of life? What do you want out of every day? Do you even know? Sometimes we get so caught up in the daily grind, taking care of everybody but ourselves, that we forget to think about it.

Some years ago I was looking forward to a weekend of alone-time because hubby was going fishing. I delighted in the thought of attacking my to-do list, not hearing the TV, not smelling cigarette smoke – well, this is my ex-husband I’m talking about so I’ll leave it at that.

Problem was, as soon as his truck disappeared around the bend, I sank down on the couch in such a funk. Completely lethargic. Blue, for no reason. Couldn’t motivate myself to do anything. It worried me. Was this depression, and where had it come from? Eventually I got up, walked from room to room, snacked on junk food, watched TV, and basically killed time until he returned. What a waste of a perfectly good weekend!

Eventually, we split for other reasons. As I worked through the divorce and learned new life skills, I came to realize that, much like women everywhere (and not a few men), I had been trained to place the needs of others before my own. I was reactive, not proactive, and when my motivation (other humans to serve) went away even for a short time, I was left with the question: “What now?”

And I had no answer. Back then, I had no idea what books I wanted to read, vacations I might want to take, movies I might want to see, or hobbies that lit me up. Nothing.

I wasn’t exactly wasting my life. I worked fulltime in a demanding job and commuted an hour each way, so I used up every bit of energy I had. When I had free time I tackled my to-do list. Given that reality, everything I “wanted” to do sounded like this: I want to clean out the linen closet. I want to organize my files. Yuck, right? But until this moment of clarity I hadn’t seen it.

I was unhappy to think that I had been so unsupportive of myself, that I was sleepwalking through my life, not appreciating the gift that it is. Time passes. You can’t get it back.

In the years since, I have changed. I now try to ask myself these questions regularly: What do I want? What would make me happy right now? The answer is usually simple: I would like to sit on my patio and read a magazine. I would like to phone my sister. Sometimes plans are longer term: I would like to play that golf course over in the next town. I would like to stay in Sedona a couple days. And maybe I plan it, or maybe not, but at least I’m more in touch with who I am as a person, as an individual.

Another tactic: Every night before I fall asleep I list five things that made me happy that day. Even if it’s simple (“I enjoyed the camaraderie at my book club”) it qualifies. I usually end up running way past five. By thinking about what made me happy I am able to value my days more powerfully, and again, be more in touch with what I enjoy.

I am not a selfish person, but it’s good to get in the habit of finding reasons to live for yourself. Even if you share your life with others, you have to be able to answer the question: What do YOU want? What would make YOU happy? Otherwise you might be in the same spot I was, having to respond: I don’t have the faintest idea.

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I Don’t Have Cancer!

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October 2010

This morning, my first at home after getting out of the hospital, I got all prettied up. I’m allowed to shower, so I washed and styled my hair. I gave myself a facial, exfoliating those bad chemicals that exude from your pores, residue of strange, strong medicines and drop-dead terror, frustration, horror.

I put on a long flowing sundress I haven’t fit into for fifteen years, but I bought it on a fun trip to Hamilton Cove on Catalina Island and never could bear to throw it out. I found it in the back of my closet while looking for a dress – I needed something without a waistband, because I don’t want anything rubbing against the ten-inch-long line of staples running up my abdomen. It looked so good I put on earrings. And perfume. In a while I’m going for the makeup.

Well, maybe not.

After all the negativity, I want to celebrate, and I rejoice this morning in being alive: a sweet-smelling, optimistic, on-the-road to healthy 56-year old recipient of modern science. My team found precursors to ovarian cancer – cysts that were idling at neutral, revving their motors, ready to pop the clutch and burn rubber into a form of cancer that provides no unique symptoms. You feel bloated? Could be something you ate, or OC. Backache? Arthritis or OC. By the time you figure out what it is, it can be very challenging disease to conquer. Many women do, and I consider them in a special class, above mere humans. I kiss their feet, and wonder if I would have had the strength to join their ranks.

But I didn’t have to, because Mother Nature whispered in my ear that the very intermittent, vague, pinging pain I felt in my right abdomen might be something to look into. So I did, and my doctors took it seriously – well, actually, one medical establishment did (Thank you, Loma Linda University Medical Center) and one absolutely did not. I got a second opinion from a totally different place, different city even. Dr. Goofy said my ovaries were fine and dismissed my fears with a (literal) wave of the hand, saying, “That was probably just something you read on the Internet.” I feel like mailing him my biopsy results.

More later. I’m tired now.

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