I will turn 50 this year and like generations before me, I am startled by this thought.  Having elementary school age children at home and a partner decades younger distracts me from thinking about this half century milestone. Recently I read an article by woman who is 60 and she referred to herself as being in her “old age” and was happy that she and her husband had passed the point of needing physical intimacy very often. Really? At 60? But I am just learning to surf bigger waves.  I am still paddling canoes and pushing myself through Bikram yoga classes. I am a third of the way through a Master’s program and have finally decided on a career which will open up so many exciting possibilities for me.

That writer is wrong. Really. She is. My new supervisor is 73 and works full time because her work is engaging and rewarding. She uses text messaging and knows her way around a computer almost as well as I do. Last month I placed 3rd for women in a race where a 75 year old man finished about middle of the pack. Age does not have to be a disadvantage. By now we’ve learned to pace ourselves, to work efficiently, to know our strengths. I am not nearly the oldest woman out there on the water. One canoe of septuagenarians flew by our twenty-somethings in a race because being smooth and steady was more efficient than frantically muscling the boat along.

I started this blog because I was suddenly single and life was opening up in new and amusing ways. I was practicing the “Laws of Attraction” and dabbling in spiritual pursuits. Since then I have experienced an assortment of health and relationship challenges, so for a while life hasn’t been as amusing. Looking back on this journey I realize I have come full circle once again. Instead of following spiritual gurus, I have found that understanding the psychology behind thoughts and behaviors to be more meaningful.  I am using the “Laws of Attraction” again but with a clear understanding of cognition. Knowing that thoughts create feelings and feelings lead to behavior and so on has given me the opportunity for a more rewarding life. I am a fledgling practitioner of mindfulness and I am learning to accept.  Just that. Accept. I am trying to simply accept so much of what life presents instead of struggling against it.

I have finally let go of my need for a creator. I am content with the universe in it’s imperfect perfection. Clearly we do not have all the answers, but we have some.  I am confident enough now to speak my mind. I hope I am open enough to change my opinion if necessary. I never want to be so rigid that I cannot see what is logical and right.

So what will I do with the 8 months I have left before my half century birthday?

• Homeschool – I am teaching my children history chronologically. We look at all conflict with an eye for “who wants what resource, land, or power from whom?” We also discuss how religions evolved, changed, met the needs of whomever was in power. We focus a lot on Math and Science (did you know electrons literally wink in and out of existence?)
•  Graduate School – full time classes and internships will take up most of my time. I am making a bit a reputation amongst my classmates as the “Atheist woman who is against the educational system and who dislikes antidepressants” – part of not being afraid to state my opinion has it’s drawbacks!
• Paddling – I may not race but I am helping my partner coach the kids racing team and this year my son is on the team. This has been good for all of us. Downwind stand up paddling is my real passion these days so I will continue with that and plan on racing in this arena this year.
• Relationship – after four years of off and on (mostly on) dating we seem to have settled into a comfortable place. I am still not sure how this will play out but I am finally comfortable enough to be completely me. And surprisingly that has only made things better. Took me a long time to learn this lesson.

Thanks for reading if you got this far. Have a great day. Aloha.

I have a concussion. I really do. Yesterday I was spraying insecticide around the perimeter of my house, feeling very competent and thrifty. I was under some bushes being all thorough and getting every inch when my 9 year old dragged the garbage can by and said “hey mom this can is full of ants!”

So here I was with my toxic spray ready to remedy that situation. I turned and stood up at the same time and slammed my forehead into the corner of the metal phone box on attached to my house.  I went down fast. I squatted with my head between my knees as waves of nausea rolled over me and pain shot through my head.

My son kept saying “mom? mom?” and when I looked up he jumped back and stared at my head. I had always heard people use the term “egg” when referring to a bump but this really did look like a half an egg sticking out of my forehead.

So that was two days ago.  Now the spot looks a bit swollen and I look like I rubbed dirt on my head. I tried changing my part to cover it up but I just looked like I needed to fix my hair. I can live with a dirty forehead I guess.

How many times have you heard “If you really wanted a partner you would make time to date”?  There is always enough time for high priorities right? I scoffed at women who said they did not have time to date. I knew they were simply lazy. Or cowards. Or thought prince charming was going to knock on the door out of the blue. They were not too busy to spend hours on Facebook right? 

Here I am eating my words yet again. Yet another recurring theme. I remember this oldie but goodie I stood by for many years: ”Dating/marrying someone decades younger is a sign of a shallow, immature, predator” (we all know what happened here), and about Christa McAuliffe: “A mother should never purposely endanger herself ” (she was almost 40 and had the unbelievable opportunity to fly on the space shuttle and interact with students around the world). Me: I regularly head out to sea in rough weather with a few emergency supplies on top of a flimsy board. And this is a good one: “my child would never do _____” (whatever a misbehaving kid was doing at that moment) and now …. there was actually one time where I denied the boys were mine and looked around to see where the parents of these obvious delinquents were.

So as you can see I have a history of making proclamations which don’t work out that well for me. I should have listened more closely to “until you walk a mile in someone else’s shoes…”

Here I am fumbling around home-schooling, trying to keep up with outside activities for the kids, trying to make time for racing outriggers again, working a tiny bit outside the house, and taking 3 online classes. I can’t seem to keep up with any of this stuff.  My house is a mess, bills get paid late, I forget appointments and my relationship got to be too stressful.

So now I am in the position of having no time to date. I tried to get my guy to agree to a couple evenings a week and maybe something on the weekend now and then but the emotional distance grew and then the drama started. So there you have it – you can be too busy to date. Or rather too busy for a relationship (which people seem to want to do after a few dates…)

Raised by New England Methodists who, until I was a teenager, had very little exposure to the world outside of the Eastern United States. I grew up with puritanical values such as; you never speak about money, show respect to elders, work hard, get an education and do the right thing. In addition, we were never exposed to any ethnic groups except our own anglo saxon middle class friends and relatives.  However, if you could glance at how my life has played out you would guess that I had been raised by California hippies. 

I am living in a beautiful home in Hawaii. Not large by mainland standards but large enough. I moved here with my two sons. Then my brother in law moved in and that lasted about six months until he found a great job in another state. Next my adult daughter moved in and she and I are happily coexisting and caring for the boys and each other. Yesterday my ex-husband moved in. Yes, I know this is a bit unconventional. I left conventions long ago when I decided at 16 that a baby would be great fun to have.

Five years ago a mental health counselor in Belgium told me that the healthiest thing for my sons would be to have both parents living in the same home even though we were no longer in a romantic relationship. I told her she was nuts. How could I watch my ex husband date? That would be excruciating. And how could the kids be better off watching their parents interact with other partners? The woman was clearly not qualified to be giving advice. Obviously one of those out of touch academics.

Fast forward to yesterday. My ex and his girlfriend broke up for good. He no longer lives part time in the Midwest. He has been increasingly depressed each time he leaves the boys. He has spoken to counselors, friends and relatives and they all think that this situation is best for the boys.  So here he is. We converted the living room to an office/bed room for him. The boys share a room and my daughter and  I each have our own rooms. Kind of like a boarding house. Or the Waltons.

Having their dad here is good for the boys. They like having both of us around. They feel safer and act calmer and more respectful. They get more attention from him and I get more time off from them. He’s been staying with us off and on for five years – we have our rhythms. He cooks a lot, I clean a lot, the boys get a united front, and it kind of works.  Because of the diversity, Hawaii is a good place to live this unconventional way. People here are open to different ways of being.  A raised eyebrow or good humored ribbing is the extent of it.

But what about my own boyfriend? How does he feel about my live-in ex husband? Surprisingly he is fine with the whole situation. He is friendly with the ex, even offering to take him hunting (hopefully not to “accidentally” shoot him) and having dinner with him many times over the years. Selfishly he likes that I am able to come stay with him a lot more and he can leave some of my ‘honey-do” list for the ex.  So I lucked out. Many men would have a real territorial war over this. My guy has his faults but he is smart and sees the benefits here.

My ex is a divorce attorney. Sometimes I think the universe planned all of this so that he could be a good example to others. Maybe not. Perhaps as my kids say, it is all “random”. In any case that is where my winding path has led me. A great life in Hawaii with three of my five children and my ex. An unusual situation to be sure – but it could be we are simply the beginning of a healthier trend in divorce.  Let’s hope.

I am about to start on a Masters program and my friend visiting from Alaska carelessly said “Oh, all my divorced mom friends are getting masters in counseling degrees right now, it seems the in thing to do when you get to be our age”. Sigh… apparently I am having a second go ’round as a cliche. Most of you know the whole “last one to know” story of my divorce. But I honestly thought this decision was creative and forward thinking.  I really believe that with my personality and given the right academic tools I will make a good counselor. Now I am doubting myself. Are there a multitude of over forty, divorcees who believe this is the case? Am I joining the ranks of middle aged women who have an overdeveloped opinion that they (we) are special enough to be able to help others due to their (our) unique life experience ? Fudge. But what else? I am going to have to work well into my sixties unless I get married to someone with a great retirement plan. Given my propensities – I certainly cannot count on that!  And I cannot choose a career path that requires the use of my body (that reads funny, I didn’t mean I was considering prostitution, I meant things like lifting or cleaning or building. You folks have dirty minds). Anyway, my undergraduate degree is in Human Services which includes lots of counseling type work and I truly did enjoy it. I found that the more I learned the more there was to learn regarding social systems and cultures. Effective counselors know a lot about how one operates within the confines of a particular system.

I am not going to research the percentage of women – just like me – who are flooding this field. I don’t want to know. When I signed in to my Master”s Program online sight and “met” the others in my class I got a clear sense that many of my classmates are fresh from college. For some unexplained reason a majority of folks wrote about their dogs in their introduction. Apparently thinking of your dog as your child is considered a selling point. I think only people without children believe this but you never know. I nearly put down that I share custody of a dog but then I decided that would be disingenuous which is not how I want to think of myself. I do actually share custody of a dog though in case you thought I might be lying to fit in.

So school starts in a few days and I am a bit unsettled about it. I did not LOVE school. EVER. I especially did not love college. I went to several schools and never really felt I was learning anything. I thought of the whole thing as a sort of game: in order to get a good job you need a degree. The degree can be in just about anything. Then you have the degree and you get to join the degree club. Then they give you the job. The reality was that some students worked hard and put a lot of effort into learning and some did the bare minimum, hardly cracking a book and rarely could the teachers tell the difference.  I found that I worked hard when I was interested and faked it when I wasn’t (which was most of the time).  The degree has opened a few doors, I admit, but other than learning how to cram I am not sure I learned enough to justify the expense.

Here I am again. This time I have high hopes that I will learn. Simply learn. I would love to write a book about my family’s experience “unplugging” the kids from electronic games but I have been waiting to do some research regarding how this stuff affects my kids at different ages and stages of development. I would like some insight into human development so that I can understand my family and friends better. And myself. I plan on looking honestly at myself. Maybe I can figure out how not to become a cliche. You never know…

When I read about an adult who manages to get lost on a day hike and is found wearing inadequate clothing, without water, emergency equipment or even a cell phone ~ I feel smugly self-righteous knowing I would never be such a nit wit. But if you have read this site you know that in my experience arrogance is always rewarded with a humbling of some sort. You can see where this is going.  Yes, I ended up miles from anywhere hiking through the harsh terrain of uneven lava rock wearing loose flip-flops, shorts and a tank top, no water, no cell phone, and most importantly – no flash light. Up until then the day had gone remarkably well. But let’s back up even further. As you know my passion is outrigger canoe paddling. This is my third year and I have been steering the “dark horse” crew. Earlier in the season I  steered  the “over 40′s” women but someone more experienced took over. This new crew was thrown together using random men and women of differing ages. We were just as surprised as everyone else when it turned out we were faster than all but the top mens’ crew on our team.

Yesterday in a 12 mile race, while we were closing in on the five fastest crews, our boat flipped over.  Miraculously our youngest paddler got it righted within seconds and hopped in to bail. We were up and running in no time and catching the 2 crews who had passed us while we were bailing. However, just when we upped our speed my steering paddle slipped out of my hand in a swell. I couldn’t reach for it without flipping us again, so with a heavy heart, I grabbed my spare blade and left my favorite paddle behind.

We placed 8th overall and easily beat all of the other crews on our team (except top men). More importantly none of my crew was mad at me for letting the boat go over. I couldn’t enjoy the victory though knowing my paddle was out there. It was my first steering blade.  When I bought it I asked the owner of the paddling store to help me pick out the best blade for my size and for the type of water I paddle in – without consideration of cost. We chose a 48″ black carbon fiber Kialoa with blue trim.  I added a silver shark decal after my shark encounter and  pink Hawaiian islands on the bottom of the wood shaft.  My boyfriend carved my initials under the tee-top handle and refinished it with a clear shine. It fits my hand perfectly and when I steer it feels like a part of me.

This brings us closer to how I ended up miles from anywhere in the closing dark, tears streaming, feet and hands bleeding wondering if I should try to get back to the car or continue to the next bay.

I wanted to go to the bay, where I thought my paddle must have drifted, to look for it. I thought we’d drive into the bay and walk the beach for a bit. What really happened was that we couldn’t drive in and had to park near the road to hike in. The hike wasn’t too terrible but flip flops are not great for walking on lava and big chunks of gravel. The shoreline, we discovered, was not sand but consisted of coin size smooth black rocks that worked their way in between my flip-flops and feet.  Stopping every few steps to shake out the rocks, I kept alternating between bare feet and flip flops.  My boyfriend found it a bit easier and walked on ahead. He kept going and I followed but the distance between us continued to grow as I diligently scanned the shoreline for my paddle.  After about an hour I realized I hadn’t seen Derek in quite a while and began concentrating on making better time. I thought by now he’d be tracking back to find me and we’d give up.

Eventually I got angry. Totally exhausted from the race, legs hurting, dehydrated, kids needing to be picked up and where the hell was Derek? How dare he leave me behind like this?  What if I fell and was seriously cut? The lava was extremely  jagged and my feet and hands were becoming sliced and bloody. By then I decided not to try to get back to the car because I (erroneously)  thought the next bay – where my car waited – was closer.  So I plodded on. Now the terrain was such that I had to walk high above the shore on loose red lava rocks and white chunks of coral that kept sliding under my feet throwing me off balance.  In some places I had to climb up a hill or down to to the shore to get through.  I didn’t know whether it was high or low tide but at times I needed to hop from rock to rock in order to get through little inlets in between the ocean and steep walls of lava. If the tide was higher I would have beens stranded and the sunlight was disappearing rapidly. I remembered that the full moon had been a few days ago so I couldn’t expect much help there.  I was glad someone had placed white coral pieces along the slight trail I was following.  In the back of my mind I  worried that Derek had seen my paddle and was injured trying to swim out to it, and that maybe I had passed right by him.

I pushed on and on, alternately soothing myself with calming words and then swearing at myself and Derek and finally sitting down to cry.  I can’t tell you how long this all took. Maybe 3 hours? It felt like weeks. Ultimately I made it to the next bay where all was dark and silent. My car was sitting safely in the lot but my keys were in Derek’s truck. I borrowed a phone from the security guard and called home. My friend answered and told me her husband was on his way to help Derek find me.

Apparently Derek had run back on a path up higher than where I had been walking and we passed by each other. When he couldn’t find me he ran back to his car and made some calls. Discovering that no one had heard from me, he ran frantically back to the beach and searched up and down for me.  He was visibly shaken when he got to me and I didn’t feel angry anymore. I do know now that even smart people sometimes you get lost hiking.  I am really glad they hadn’t gone to plan B and called the search and rescue guys. How embarrassing to be the nit-wit on the news who got lost hiking.

I have recently learned that menopause symptoms come and go (for years).  I had honestly thought I had dodged this particular bullet because I am just so damn healthy and balanced. I am also a nitwit.  Every time I get arrogant I get the wind knocked out of me. I joked about hot flashes seeming like funny little secrets. And they are. But even funny little secrets get annoying when they happen 1o times an hour. I tire easily and cannot  muster enough energy to do my regular routine, let alone my “to do” list.  I asked a co-worker about feeling “foggy brained” and she said that it doesn’t ever go away completely. Wonderful.

At canoe practice the other day I mentioned that I was having trouble with my memory due to menopause and a male team-mate stated that he does not believe menopause is real and that I simply must learn “mind over matter”.  Hmmmmm, really? So all I have to do is be strong willed enough to ignore it all? Once he woke up from being struck on the head with my paddle I told him I would work on that.

Here is the problem. All my eggs are gone. It is that simple. You run out of eggs and the whole system goes into a frantic state of trying to balance hormones without the assistance of Estrogen – which apparently is critical. I always thought hormones were just for moods but they actually ” are chemical messengers that travel throughout the body coordinating complex processes like growth, metabolism, and fertility. They can influence the function of the immune system, and even alter behavior. Before birth, they guide development of the brain and reproductive system. Hormones are the reason why your arms are the same length, why you can turn food into fuel, and why you changed from head to toe at puberty.”

Obviously these guys are pretty important and when they are misbehaving – chaos is unleashed. In my case I have become a foggy brained sloth. Luckily there are ways to mitigate this.  I never thought I would be one of those folks who have the little pill container marked with the days of the week but seriously those boxes do come in handy.  I now take pills called: Ashwaganda, Chaste Tree Root, 7-keto Dhea, Black Cohash, Probiotics, Vitamin D, Omega 3s, Calcium, Magnesium, and finally the big gun – the thyroid pill.

So how am I doing? Pretty good. Not perfect but I haven’t recently put my cell phone in the refrigerator and I work out at least 5 times a week ( I am cheating less and less too).

And let us not forget the boyfriend. Remember I am in my late forties and well, he is not.  He definitely enjoys the hot-flashes, finds the memory issues amusing, and is learning to ask things like “is this where you just need me to listen or am I expected to give my opinion?” and he isn’t even being sarcastic.

Life in my forties never stops being interesting and better yet – surprising.

Yesterday I had a surprise party for my boyfriend’s birthday. It was a simple plan. He was coming into town for a meeting and then coming to my house where 14 of his closest friends would be waiting to have dinner with him.

The meeting was canceled and he texted me to say he was going to continue working on renovating his bathroom. I had to tell him we were having a dinner party. “Who’s coming?” he asked. I gave him the list. It included friends of ours together and it is the day before his birthday. “Why are they coming?” is his brilliant response. “Because they are bored and they like my cooking” I tell him. No reply for several minutes and then “Do I have to come?” “No, certainly not, you can stay up there and work on your bathroom and I will tell everyone that you just wanted to get your chores done.” Again no response until finally – “what time do you want me?”

This was not the end of it.  While I was at Costco picking up the cake and purchasing $100 more in party supplies I get another call regarding the bathroom. “You know this interferes with my plan to work on the bathroom, which by-the-way YOU wanted me to get done.”  (This is where you married guys are cringing because you see where this is headed.)  Me – in a nice quiet reasonable voice – “So you want to stay up at your house instead of coming to dinner?” He continues to tell me how much he has to do before his mother gets to town and tonight would have been a good time to get some work done.  ”Uh, huh, uh huh, uh huh”, I agree with him after each statement.  At this point it appears I am very understanding, until…..

“Okay fine – stay up there and work on your *&%^$-ing bathroom and I will enjoy your birthday party with YOUR  friends who will wonder why YOU are not present!!!” And because he is in his first long-term relationship he gets indignant “Why are you yelling at me? Why are you mad at me? I am just telling you that this is not convenient for me and you planned it without me.” Very reasonable argument. And my very reasonable and foreseeable response was “You know what? You are right!! How inconsiderate of me to plan YOUR surprise birthday party for a time when you would have been at my house anyway!! You are right – I am a self centered manipulative bitch!! You should just work on your bathroom tonight to teach me a lesson!!” And of course I hung up and started to cry.

At his end he punched his broken television set and cut his hand.

Dinner was at 7:00pm.  I was cooking dinner an hour or so before the guests were to arrive when my boyfriend came in and we pretended that all was well. Which, of course, it was. He fixed us a drink and told me about his day. I chattered away about inconsequential things and the party was a wonderful success.

I think the lesson here is that there is a definite learning curve in male/female relationships and when your woman becomes overly quiet and reasonable during a heated discussion – you should duck for cover. In the end you can have a wonderful dinner party with your friends and a happy girlfriend with all that entails.

I have been thinking of home schooling my sons. My hair dresser asked very politely if that is a good idea considering my condition. And that is another thing, how did I end up with elementary school age children during menopause? Aren’t I supposed to be getting near retirement and drinking martinis on my patio with my paunchy gruff husband while he reads the sports section? I took a funny turn somewhere.

I saw my doctor today. She is in her late fifties and told me life isn’t fair. That just when women are free to do whatever they want society (men) view us as an old, unsexy, crones. She was trying to make me feel better. I think. It gave me a tension headache. She then offered me antidepressants. I told her in my mother’s day they gave the women valium. She said they don’t do that anymore. Great.

I took my old, unsexy, hot body home and danced with my ridiculously young sons.  They do not know they were dancing to old lady music.

I went to see a psychic last week. I thought it would be fun. I thought there would be a seedy little room with crystal balls and incense and maybe beaded curtains.  Instead there was an ordinary conference room with a modern, cheerful little Vietnamese woman ready to tell me my past, present and future in exactly 30 minutes.

I took notes furiously as she cheerfully blurted out bits of my life in almost unintelligible staccato. She started by saying hello and welcome and then immediately commented on how young my boyfriend is.  That got my attention.  Then she bluntly stated that I cannot keep him. Well I know that, but I wanted to know exactly when I am due to give him up. She told me soon. How soon? “He have a girlfriend.” What??!! Now? “No, not now, soon.” Well how soon exactly? “He have baby”.  Ok, fine I get it, he is going to have a baby with his girlfriend. But can you zoom in on the approximate date I am supposed to step away here? “Soon, one-two years”.  Phew.  Ok, I have  a little time.  But what about me? Is there a guy in my future? “Yes, 2 more years”.  Ok that sounds promising. “But not like boyfriend now. Not big, fun, sexy guy.  Your guy upside down and backwards”. What? So he isn’t big, fun, or sexy? “No he cuckoo in the head now. Better in 2 years.” So he is a small, boring, unsexy, crazy guy? “Yes, it’s okay though.” What do you mean it’s ok? You mean I am happy with him? “Umm, you be okay.  Have fun now for 2 years. Lotta fun”. Great.

Moving on. She told me the house I live in now is beautiful. Full of good energy.  Yes, I say, it is.  I love this house.  ”Later you buy ugly house” here she laughs delightedly as if my ugly house is hilarious. So I have an ugly house and a dud for a husband. This is not sounding too great I say.  ”It be okay.  You be okay.” Sure what does she care anyway?  So I leave my love-life and my ugly house to ask about my children. She happily tells me things about my children as if she is plucking thoughts out of my head.  She tells me I worry about my daughter, she says one son is a doctor and one is very talkative and will become a politician. Both of these things are imminent. She tells me things I do not know yet but verify when I get home. She misses the mark a couple of times and seems very disappointed. My boyfriend is not, in fact, Mexican. However she gets his tattoo and uniform correct which seems to please her.

The 30 minutes goes by in seconds. I have pages of notes. I know I am going to receive the grant I wrote for and that my ex-husband occasionally pines for me (“but no go back”).  I am assured that my children all love me and that my youngest son is having trouble breathing. I know that I have an ordinary life which includes lots of fun.

I am happy I went.  I am not disappointed about my future.  My children and I will all be relatively healthy and successful. I will eventually earn my own income doing something I love.  Who knows, maybe my upside down and backward cuckoo guy will be exactly what I need to compliment my ugly house.  It be okay.