Not sure if you noticed that it’s been longer than usual since my last post (six days!) but I’ve found myself in a bit of a slough this last week, on and off. Sense of self-worth has been shaky and when I evaluate my life so far, I minimize anything that might seem an achievement to others. It gets bleak, and the ridiculousness of it all doesn’t help. I mean, my rational brain echoes my husband who points out my parenting, my conservatory diploma (piano performance), the BA, MA, and PhD. I earned after I had four kids. But She has her hooks well in, and She’s very good at pointing out the mediocrity of each accomplishment, at finding the comparisons that prove that mediocrity, and whatever the biochemistry that’s going on at the cellular level during these session, She is shockingly convincing.
Not that I haven’t fought back. If I can get outside and get moving, I’m generally able to muster up some endorphins to help balance the scales. Paul took that photo of me (he’s getting much better, isn’t he? Although wow! he still takes such a long time setting up) at the Sports Club here at the Chaban-Delmas Stadium, culmination of our self-guided Art Deco tour .
And the photo below is one of the Couple Selfies I’ve been sharing on Instagram — you can see the Art Deco architecture behind us and the glorious mosaic floor inside, in front of us. He’s been a great support on my blue days, and overall, I think we’ll both say the two months’ together have been good. Not without challenges, and not for everyone’s relationship, but the extended time exposed some patterns and encouraged us to change them — and it reminded us of the best part of Us, allowed time to recognize and strengthen that without the disruptions we have at home.
I wrote this in a letter to a good friend the other day — she’d been perspicacious enough to ask how I was feeling as I approached that liminal space at the end of a trip:
Yep, beginning to think ahead to home and pretty much ready for it, beginning to think about how well this trip matched what I’d hoped for and what I’ve/we’ve learned from where it either fell short or exceeded or even revealed the unexpected. I think I always load travel with too many expectations that I don’t even know I’m holding until I start to unpack a mood. Mostly, I think the time with just the two of us has been really good for exposing and shifting some patterns — it’s so easy to be diverted from that at home, but we’re stuck with each other here and that ends up being a good thing. Partly, when I’m here, I realize how much I’d like more time on my own, but I also see how lucky I am to have someone whose company I (mostly 😉 enjoy (and find comforting and sheltering, which is not nothing!) and whose ego doesn’t (often) get in the way — so that if I need the time alone, he gives it to me. Also, I think the time as a couple without the kids in our weekly (often daily) lives is a really good thing, even though we both miss them. It’s so easy to get pulled into their stuff at home, and I’m happy to, but it’s good to remember that it’s really each other we need to prioritize being with and looking after. My current thinking, at least. We’ll see how that changes once I’m back home.
A few years ago, at a party on “our little island,” a neighbour told me she’d been disappointed with a post I’d written, disappointed to see me express unhappiness during a trip, unhappiness at all actually seemed to be her point, given the good fortune of my life. Although I often wonder, when such feelings are expressed, whether the speaker has any understanding of depression at all, this was someone I knew often struggled with the beast. I suspect her disappointment wasn’t so much directed at me for not bucking up and admitting my happiness, my luck, but at the condition itself for so distorting our experience and sense of self-worth — there was much in her life to be contented with as well. . . And she probably knew as well as I did that knowing that only made the feeling worse. More ammunition for the Inner Critic to aim . . .
Anyway, I looked that post up, thinking I’d tell you about it — it had been written here in Bordeaux as we neared the end of a seven-week trip, most of it spent locally. What a surprise to see how uncannily close was the melancholy and frustration I expressed there to what I’ve been living again lately.
So it continues.
And I hope it doesn’t become too tiresome to read. If you’re disappointed with me for feeling blue in the midst of this wonderful travel opportunity, I hope there’s compensation in the value of an honest representation.
To push the melancholy out of the way today, to make the most of our dwindling time here (just over a week left now), we’ve rented bikes and we’ll head out into the countryside again, hit up a local market. I’ve got scads of photos to show you eventually, all taken during various outings designed to lift spirits, but for the purposes of this post, I thought I’d prefer to focus on the small, particular details of the extraordinary ordinary, if that’s okay. . .
The saucers lined on a bar counter, each with a packet of sugar and a wrapped biscuit, all ready for the “petits cafés” that will be made up for the next wave of coffee drinkers. . .
Rare to catch these inviting benches in Le Jardin Public so empty. . .
And finally,
a sketchbook page from several weeks ago at Marché des Capucins, oysters and a glass of white wine, and one of those windows. . .
Hmmm, I had actually thought I couldn’t write anything here — and perhaps I shouldn’t have. But there’s one more post written; I’ll click “Publish” now, and I’ll hand the mic to you.
xo,
f
Hooray for "honest representation."
Wherever we go, we still carry ourselves. This is both burden and solace, as you well know.
Thank you for keeping it real.
Much as I like to travel I think my sense of self is tied up with work and home. I've delayed retirement into my seventies as I'm self-employed and have a job that is stimulating and satisfying: I've never left my desk for more than two weeks. I suspect being away from home for as long as you've been on this trip would make me feel a loss of identity? Much as I enjoy the intellectual stimulation of travel (we're don't do beach holidays abroad, but enjoy galleries, using our languages and exploring other cultures) after a week or ten days I'm usually longing for my own comfortable bed, to see our garden, to catch up with work, family, friends and neighbours. Not sure how my eventual retirement will change that… Don't feel you need to apologise for expressing the downs – we're old enough to welcome the reality of life, and you've had to absorb your own family's recent sadness. Best, Elizabeth
I really disagree with your neighbour (though, natch, I would!) You're allowed to feel existential sadness – and to express it – even if you are a fortunate person. This complexity is what makes you human! I think it's incredibly helpful to express yourself – helpful to you and helpful to your readers. We treat "biochem intensity" like illness all to often. Of course, it can fall into that domain, but it also brings us to the edge of artistry, to the edge of compassion, down a path of extreme self-awareness (makes it sound a bit like a sport!) To express the easy with the hard makes you relatable. Note: I'm not suggesting it's anyone's job to be relatable. But it does make for better blogging. 🙂
I'm glad that the two months together has worked. It's wonderful to have a spouse who gives you your space when you need it and is happy to go his own way, but also needs and wants you in his space too. Not sure if I'm talking about you or me there. Ha. Love that word "sheltering" … perfectly describes what we sometimes need from them.
Sorry you're feeling blue. No wise words from me. Except to NOT say "at least" you …. blah, blah, blah, fill in the blank. And like Elizabeth says, no need to apologise for anything. This is your space. We come here to listen and talk to you, about whatever you choose.
Have a wonderful last few days before heading home, Frances. xo
What I most appreciate about your writing is your honesty, even when it may not be comfortable for you (or certain readers). As most of us of a certain age already know, life isn't an instagram photofest–one pretty picture after another–well-posed, filtered. It can be gritty and hard and confusing. Why hide the feelings that sometimes threaten to overwhelm you–no matter where you are in life or place? Know that others are with you in spirit on your (life) journey–no matter whether it is the good, the bad or the ugly.
Enjoy the rest of your stay in France. Safe travels.
That mean Inner Critic knows the places to poke at! Busyness or a change of venue sometimes gets her off our backs but she's always waiting for a blue moment. It's wonderful that you have a husband to "shelter" you. I find that mine has to manage his own moods so much and that he is easily agitated so that I have had to "just do it" myself. Life gives us opportunities to create stronger relationships or more independence as we need them. Bordeaux looks very appealing. I may be renting a house in France next year. My brother wants to cycle and his wife is using an e-bike. The oysters on Saturdays might be an added attraction. I really enjoy your sketches.
Frances,I hope that you know that you are much loved and understand here,we are here not only for better but for worse as well :-)….
How could we cherish happiness and joy if there wasn't sometimes the other side of the coin ?
xo
Dottoressa
Thanks for sharing, we are hear to listen. That’s why we come, to read your honest, eloquent thoughts……the reality of life. So great to have the “shelter” of your husband. And I don’t know how this works but isn’t it good that partners don’t usually both require extra support at the same time
I didn’t have any blue moments on my recent 5 week trip, some deliberate slow days helped with that I think. BUT, on another note, that return home jet lag was a killer, I seriously wondered if I was ill…..about a 5 day recovery! (maybe it always happens and my senior mind just doesn’t recall). Hopefully you’ll have any easy transition back to our time zone.
Again, thanks for posting.
Suz from Vancouver
Just wanted to say I am going through a similar situation and can totally relate. Like you,I have been retired a few years and have found myself questioning all of it: raising children,work,just life experience. Some days are better than others. Terry
Recently, I am considering some of these issues, too.
I believe that as writers, artists, and social creatures we are obliged to observe and report our observations as clearly as we can.
But even our most accurately reported observations are only data, not truth. Any available truth may be extracted from our own and others' data, combining and weighting the data in any ways we choose.
As compelled as I am to draw conclusions, lately it's new questions, not answers, I value most. Some of these new questions are requiring me to disassemble my most comfy, hoary truths. It's not a comfortable process, but necessary for me to keep learning.
Ann in Missouri
I'm sorry you're feeling low, but I for one needed to hear that I wasn't alone in these thoughts today. Thank you for sharing.
I also disagree with your neighbour. Dottoressa puts it well that we have to experience both sides of the coin, joy AND sadness. It is good that you have support, and it is healthy to express your feelings even while listening to that nagging voice that says "but I shouldn't complain." Life is hard some times. I sent an email today to a relative who is in the absolute centre of the Brexit madness. I quoted Samuel Beckett, "You must go on. I can't go on. I'll go on." You always go on and and come through. Take heart. Brenda
To paraphrase Natalie Goldberg, "it's just unsettledness. Don't let it toss you away."
Feelings, they say, are not facts. They swamp us,pulling us like the tides sometimes. It shifts, it moves. You feel what you feel. No apologies.
While I feel blessed to not suffer from depression, I can surely recognize that it can be debiltating.Like anyone, situational blue-ness strikes due to grief or trauma. I bounce back easily, but recognize the exit I have taken toward the blue takes its toll while also renewing in my heart and mind that it is always searing but brief for me.
Madame La-bas, I hear you, having lived in the distant past with a man with manic depression. My current sweetheart is steady and emotionally sturdy and always willing to support, allthough I am too self-sufficent for my own good.
Sitting at Logan now waiting for my flight after a month away in Maine, physically working my socks off…and realize he adds the same shelter for me that Paul does for you, Frances.
You will feel more settled soon, bon courage in the meantime.
Just love your couple reflection selfies in windows. As someone who has always hated to be photographed, think I will steal your idea, as it is not too intrusive a photo experience!
Wrong glasses and can not see what the hell I am typing.
A. in London
I'm sorry you feel this way ever, anywhere. However it feels to me like you are getting closer and closer to Her core. The core of the critter I call The Watcher, she/he who tells us we AREN'T DOING A GOOD ENOUGH JOB…and once you are close to her she may prove to be nothing more than the Wizard of Oz. Sending love.
I too had been wondering if it were almost time for you to come home, just didn't want to interrupt you. <3
Oh, and F., if you are ready to laugh (if not, ignore me and that's wholly understandable) here's a Saturday Night Live skit from Adam Sandler that made me laugh ruefully. It's funny, but also sweet in the way all human frailty is sweet.
youtube.com/watch?v=TbwlC2B-BIg
I hear you, and I'm listening, and I'll be here next time too. Isn't that how we help each other? I lead a great life with so much to be grateful for, but sometimes I can be flattened for a few days, with no apparent reason or way out. I just have to sit with it, and know it won't last for ever.
Lovely to have you in my mailbox, and I really enjoy your sketching, so admired by one whose talents do not lie in that direction!
Jules
We are all here with you. This is what life is; sometimes wonderful, other times painful…and most of the time, somewhere in-between.
The good thing is the black dog does eventually amble away.
Ali
Drew: Thank you so much. "both burden and solace," yes, indeed. . .
Elizabeth: The re-negotiation of identity (or my conception of it) has been ongoing since retirement and since moving from a home/community of longstanding, and in some ways, the drive to travel is a response to that — this is some of what I'm thinking/feeling through at the moment and perhaps I'll figure out how to write about it. Thanks so much for your understanding.
K: Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you for this perspective. As much as I hate the way I feel when the biochem drags me down, I do value my sensitivities and sensibilities. And I'm a huge fun of Embracing Complexity, so I love to see you equate that with humanity. xo
Sue: Well, "at least" I have friends like you to lend a compassionate ear. 😉 xo
Mary: Such kind and thoughtful words — much appreciated, merci!
Mme. You're so right about my luck in having a partner who can shelter me when I need that. I admire the ways you've found to care for yourself with a partner whose contributions lie elsewhere. As for Bordeaux, I think you would find much to like here. I like your brother's idea of an e-bike so that his wife can pedal along with him. A friend runs some wonderful bike tours in Catalonia, using e-bikes as a way to keep their (small) groups inclusive.
Dottoressa: Thank you — so true about the other side of the coin. . .
Suz: So pleased your trip went so well — 6 weeks is a long stretch, isn't it? I'm glad your comment pointed out the way this sheltering is reciprocal, and yes, thank goodness (so far, at least) that we mostly seem to "take turns" (to be honest, my guy's much more emotionally resilient — or reserved? — than I am, but there are different forms of shelter, right?). As for the jetlag, whoo! I hear you! It takes me nearly a week, generally, and the only way I cope is that I'm a pretty decent afternoon-napper. . . .
Terry: I wonder if there are more of us than we know. . .
Ann: Absolutely. "Truths" are provisional, shifting, contingent. Surety is comforting but dangerous in its own right. Give me a good question any day!
LPC/Lisa: So funny, another friend told me (before I posted this) that her "spidey sense" told her I might be feeling low. . . I hope you're right about ousting this creature from her lair, exposing her myths. And I will check out that video. We've been laughing at Gad here (on Netflix in Huge in France, but there's also a long feature of his performance (in French, but subtitled, at least, so I can read what my ears can't sort) at the Montreal comedy festival). Also Fary is the New Black which is on Netflix here (also in French, subtitled in French). Laughter is good, good comics are artists. . .
Jules: Thank you so much for your kind and thoughtful words. They really help.
Ali: S/he does amble away, eventually. I wish I could know what calls her to me, but so glad to know by now that so far, for me at least, she does leave. And I have so much compassion for those she sticks closer to for longer. . . I bet your garden is magnificent right now.
Leslie K: Thanks for that. I do hope, when I share, that it might lessen the sense of isolation we often feel when we get stuck in sadness.
Brenda: That Beckett is a necessary complement (antidote?) to Julian of Norwich. Some days it seems nothing will ever be well, but we persevere nonetheless. . . Thanks for the wisdom. Good luck (and much fortitude) to your relative. . .
Jean Shaw: And this Goldberg quotation — wonderful trifecta that makes with Brenda's Beckett and the Julian of Norwich wisdom that often seems a bit spurious. In fact, thinking back to what K-Line and Ann of Missouri say above, the Unsettledness can be a very good thing, as long as we don't let it toss us away. . . Thank you!
Somehow I expected that it would get easier as I got older, that life experience would bring a calmness and confidence and sense of being in control. Well that's not happening! Perhaps because the older generations of my youth seemed to withdraw from active life and sit placidly, and having lived through two world wars, they seemed to display fortitude in all situations, and a sense of 'it can't be worse than what we lived through'. So as I start my own business at a time when my mother's generation were retiring (and at an age when my mother would soon die an untimely death from cancer), I am beset by huge self-doubt and constant anxiety. Recounting all I have done and accomplished in my career doesn't help a jot – all I see are the pitfalls, because I know about them from experience. But Headspace meditations are a great discovery. All a way of saying that I feel deeply for you and admire the way you write about this issue.
And seriously, you could publish those drawings.
France's I suspect most people manage not to allow themselves to reflect on their lives which at this latter stages of our life is a rather daunting prospect and certainly a melancholy one. I think it's inevitable that anyone with the capacity for self reflection will doubt and worry about their life's achievements no matter how apparently successful they have been. And a tendency towards depression will magnify those thoughts. Good luck and know that many admire you and share your fears and are cheering you on. Enjoy the last few days and travel well.
Thank you for sharing these emotions, doubts and being honest with yourself and us. It helps all who have the same episodes, we all struggle at times. Enjoy the rest of your trip and safe travels home.
Thanks for your honesty. My inner critic is alive, well, and ready to emerge, so I can relate to your feelings. I really appreciate your writing. Please keep at it. Hope the rest of your trip is fun and that you can keep that inner critic stuffed in the suitcase.
Put me on the list to disagree with your neighbour too! I too loveyour writing and honesty; as you know I am a big believer in blogging authentically 'warts and all'. Life happens, in all its glory and all its shade – learning that others have these melancholy moments too in the midst of what seems to serve happiness, contentment and bounty helped reassure me that I am no freak. I've had both my sister and a sister-in-law complain about my musings not scattering happiness around and rebuking me for my questioning of life.
Anyway – writing is an excellent way to process. You keep doing you!
I'm having a hard time moving on from your neighbor's comment – what amazing gall to criticize someone's honest expression! Some people are so self reverential, eh? Speaking for myself, fatigue, insomnia, not eating well….all these things contribute to a visit from the Inner Critic. Which does not make it my fault when she appears, of course, but it does give me some preventative tools to keep her away. It sounds like you may be progressing toward your own self-protection devices.
Warmest regards,
ceci
I'm sorry to hear that you've been feeling down, Frances. This was certainly not tiresome to read, I appreciate your honesty and the comments made by others, all very thought provoking. I know exactly what you mean about loading travel with expectations, perhaps unconsciously. However, we can't get away from ourselves when we leave home. I agree with your suggestion that your former neighbour's comments are more likely to be a reflection of her own concerns than your writing. Some people seem to feel that we've all got an obligation to put on a smile and sweep any negative feelings under the carpet, but we know where that type of approach can lead. Wilma
I much prefer to hear the reality than an unreal spin on things. I understand struggling with depression as I have been there. Thank you for your honesty in your struggle.
When I first read your post not long after you’d written it I felt that you had expressed exactly what I’ve been feeling these past days. While I’ve been trying to put my thoughts into some form of readable order other friends here have said it for me and far more eloquently than I could have managed. So thank you for sharing these blues. When I was in the midst of an I have no right to feel this way mood it gave me the chance to own up to the transient bleakness.
Happy travels and happy returns
I’ve waited a bit in the hope that I would find just the right words but that hasn’t worked, so here goes anyway. As others have said, we come here for your unique, insightful and engaging voice and I’m happy to read anything you write. I’ve been a regular reader for many years and truly value all that you generously share in this place. I admire your honesty about the good and the tough times because they are all part of life. And you’ve inspired me to let my guard down a little by commenting more here and elsewhere and to be more open in real life. Sharing the hard times is very difficult for me and many others but it’s important and helpful for both the teller and the listener. I would rather read a post from you about anything you choose, including the blues, than another vacuous post from (much) lesser authors about clothes or face creams etc., though I do enjoy a good, real OOTD piece 😉. Take care, Maria x
Pertinent that the melancholy came on, both in Sept 2015 and now, as the holiday drew to a close. That speaks volumes. Home may be filled with plenty of busy but clearly it doesn't do the trick.
Looking back on past accomplishments becomes more irrelevant as aging sets in, so no help there.
Here'a what I think: you should go to a small cabin by the sea all by yourself. Bring whatever you want but go with the idea to do absolutely what you want, even if it's an entire month of doing nothing but drinking tea. See what happens.
Giulia
Your Inner Critic and mine seem to be receiving their advanced training at the same place. I recognize many of the accusations you cite. Where both our Inner Voices are fundamentally wrong, however, is that they measure in achievement or failure what is – in many cases – the result of conscious (if not entirely voluntary) choice. My decision to leave academia and become a school teacher because there was no other way of being a responsible mother to a wonderful little boy was very painful at the time, but I never regretted it. Knowing this does not entirely shut up the Inner Voice, but it helps a lot.
And allow me to cite Karl Marx who dreamt of a society where he could “hunt in the morning, fish in the afternoon, rear cattle in the evening, criticise after dinner, just as I have a mind, without ever becoming hunter, fisherman, shepherd or critic”. That was what freedom meant for him. Replace with activities of your choice, and voilá.
When the inner Critic does not accept that idea of freedom it can be very hard to fight her back into her little cave. After reading all these comments you will know that you are not alone in this.
Thank you for your honesty. Just one of the many reasons I enjoy reading your posts. We all have our struggles and you are definitely not alone. I hope your travels home go well.
You tend get blue at some point when you travel, ma. You seem to become a bit unmoored, when away from your home base. I know it's not as simple as that, but it is a pattern. The woman who spoke to you on the island had a limited view of depression (or just the human condition.) Safe trip and may you feel the deep comfort of home very soon.
Linda: I'm surprised as well, and I realize I have very few memories of older women (or men, for that matter) who I could see engaged in the world the way I'm still wanting to be. I find life more complicated at this age than I had any notion it would be — that could well be due to the solipsism of youth or to having been head-down busy with family and studies and work. . . So now it's making it up as we go along and being grateful for the ears of friends — as yours, thank you. Thank you also for the too-kind words about my little sketches.
Ceri: Thank you! It does seem simple common-sense to me, really, to feel low or anxious about this stage and the following. The eventual bad news is writ rather large. I do my very best to find joy in the moments, etc., and overall I think I'm quite positive, but reality will rear her annoying head. . . 😉
Kathy and Maggie: It matters so much to me that you say that — thank you! It's my hope that sharing makes our burdens a bit easier.
Amanda/PomoM: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, right? In it together, thank you!
Ceci: You know, I think you're right about the role of fatigue/insomnia and diet — we also tend to drink a bit more while here — instead of a glass of wine with dinner a few nights a week, we might have a glass with lunch and with dinner and that is more likely to be 5 days a week instead of 3 or 4. I've been paying more attention this last week and I've had a few nights better sleep. . . .which always makes a difference. Sleep, nature's nurse.
Wilma: Thanks for the understanding and validation — I do think that the pasted-on smile and the stiff upper lip approach can be useful (fake it 'til you make it, and all that) but that too much shutting ourselves off from our feelings is dangerous. Balance, as always, seems to be all. . .
Jeannine: Thanks! It seems that many of us appreciate knowing we're not alone. Such a relief to me.
Ceri in Bristol: "transient bleakness" — a great phrase, reassuring both through the adjective and the pinning-down. Thank you!
Maria: Your thoughtful and kind words mean so much to me. Thank you, and I'm so glad my writing has helped or entertained.
Giulia: Thank you for the insight. Life and personality have made me much more skeptical than you seem to be about simple solutions, but I could certainly enjoy several days of complete solitude. At the moment, I think I'm longing for re-connection with friends, tbh, but we'll see. Liminal times/spaces are always interesting.
Eleonore: such a thoughtful and intriguing/engaging response, especially about those constraints that influenced our paths against what our Inner Critics might have expected. And you know I very much appreciate Mr. Marx's contribution 😉
Beth: Thanks so much.
K/Duchesse: Honestly, I get blue when I'm at home as well, but perhaps I write about it differently because it doesn't feel quite so inappropriate or something. One more week here to make the best of this opportunity, and I'm relieved the veil has mostly lifted — and then I am ready to settle back into the comforts of home (really looking forward to more water pressure! And softer water!)
I applaud you for sharing the downs as well as the ups, and for your honesty. In an era when it can feel like everyone else (especially on social media) has a glowing, perfect life, I think it's important to be authentic.Personally, I think it's probably the best gift we can give to the world. It's not *normal* to be delighted all of the time, and the longer a trip, the more likely we are to have those melancholic moments.
I love that image of the saucers, just waiting for their cups!
Your are the real deal Mater. I knew when I found your blog that this is a goldmine especially for the readers who value honest and meaningful dialogues. Your are a strong woman with a brilliant mind and a compassionate heart. No where else online would I have bared my soul and the depth of what I went through but here on your blog. You've created a good place here for you to write and for us to share, commiserate or just listen. And to your wonderful husband, kudos for his support and love. Enjoy the rest of your vacation and a safe trip home! My apology for the late comment. Amelia
Sue: Thank you! I do think the length of the travel is a factor, but I can't help but wonder when I see all the selfie-posing influencers at the Important Sites here whether they might have a moment as well. . .
And I'm glad you like that image — it would be so easy to do a series of coffee cups here!
Amelia: You are so kind — thank you so much for this very generous feedback about the blog. So much of it comes from reader contributions and I'm so pleased you now feel comfortable to join the conversation. I'll pass your words along to my husband — it's true that his support and love is a foundation here. xo
Wonderful post. I've struggled too and am always amazed at how rude some people can be. I want to remind them that things only appear perfect and to be kind. I appreciate your honesty in your writing.
Thanks Jen!
The phrase that comes to mind (and I have a vague sense that it is originally from Jon Kabat Zinn), which I will tweak a bit, is "wherever we go, there we are". I sometimes fall into the trap of thinking and hoping that a change of scenery, a new environment, a different cultural context, will somehow help me see everything clearly and bring clarity to my life. But I have learned over time that it is far more rewarding to bring our true, authentic selves wherever we go, and simply be with it.
I have been asking myself many of the same questions as you, since the time I was quite young, maybe 7 or 8. Sometimes the Inner Critic has won, but I have mostly learned to really listen to her voice to see if there's something true and real to be learned, and if so to hold onto that and then let it all go. Well, that's the intention, anyway, but it's a process :~).
The high quality of the comments rises to the level of your posts! A rare achievement. I guess I was a bit surprised as a relative newbie to discover that you were down, because I have put you on a pedestal of Women Who Have Their Shit Together. But all humans have ups and downs. I appreciate learning how you deal with it; there are so many things I don't know, questions I want to ask someone. And politeness says we need to be quiet and pretend such things don't exist. This is the beauty of the Internet, the positive that helps to offset all the ugliness.
You are lucky to have such a flexible and considerate partner.
The New York Times just did a piece on confidence. There are three kinds. I am high in self-efficacy, not bad on self-confidence but very low in self-esteem (I have no photos of myself pregnant, even though, at age 42 and desperately wanting a baby I was thrilled, I feared it was selfish of me to be so happy and that nobody else cared or even that they thought it was bad).
Adele: Thanks for the thoughtful response. I'm interested that you write of thinking similar thoughts to mine from childhood and of learning through experience to adopt a different perspective. I'd say that mirrors my own history of thinking about these questions — but I still find myself swept by feelings, corporeal sensations which seem to be at a more cellular level, if you will. And these generally need to be outwaited as much as, or more than, outthought. They're not quite as easy to shake off or let go. Perhaps you imply something similar when you say "it's the intention, anyway, but it's a process." Indeed! 😉
Taste of France: Ha! I love it! At some level I think I am a Woman Who Has My Shit Together, and as such, I recognize you as a fellow member of that club. But that doesn't preclude the ups and downs. You're so right! And the politeness that gets in the way of letting us share, makes us feel as if our own unhappiness or insecurity is a dirty secret — not helpful! I'm guilty of maintaining its boundaries much of the time — perhaps fearful of losing the WWHMST certification 😉 I'll have to look up that NYT piece on confidence — I know there's a kind I lack and my sense/illusion is that it would make such a difference to have it.
I found this post so touching, and I"m grateful you wrote it. I've just left my spouse (who was neither comforting nor sheltering, alas, at least not at the end, which is why it was the end), and I find myself idealizing all of the lasting marriages and heaping anger upon myself for having lost two decades happiness. But perhaps the losses are different than what I think. Perhaps my marriage was not entirely false and wrong. That thought brings comfort and reminds me that I did the best I could, without (happily) making me doubt for one minute the wisdom of leaving. So, thank you.
Dorothea,
There is still time for happiness.
Not "wasted time", learning time-you, will not tolerate certain things for yourself again.You may expect more and likely will get it.
I am sorry. Take heart.
A.in London
Dorothea: In turn, I found your comment very touching, and I thank you for letting me know that my post mattered to you, perhaps helped show a different perspective. I admire your courage in moving beyond a marriage that was no longer making you happy. And I admire you for being able to (begin, at least) gaining a perspective on it, for rescuing the good, in your memory — it's unlikely it was "entirely false and wrong." As well, I echo A. in London's wisdom that you have time still for much happiness. Take care of you, now.