Years ago, I wrote a piece about the moment you begin to realize that you are not at the center of a child’s life, that their circle has widened to the point where you are merely on the outer ring catching a glimpse of their light. That very light that you lit when you brought that person into the world, that very light that came from love so deep there was no other choice but to ignite it and let it burn on in someone else.  While I started that piece thinking that I was losing something, that I was becoming irrelevant in some way, I ended it with the realization that that wasn’t the case that all.  That that light in that child would always be mine, I would always be the source, and that child, and all the children that came after would always return to me, be part of me. I was not irrelevant, I was vital.

But now, on the crest of 50, this notion of irrelevance is coming into my consciousness again.  Not irrelevance to my children, but the notion of being insignificant in this world.  As my body begins to give up the very gift that give it purpose.  As society looks on with disdain at a waist gone too thick or a wrinkle too deep.  As corporate America deems years of experience as something that is past its prime.   I can’t help but wonder, what now?  As the milestones of a relationship and childbirth and education and career have long since passed.  I think, what next?  How will I continue to be vital when so much of this is behind me now.  When the whole of society is working against me.  Where is my place? I think that many people of this age are trying to figure this out. To figure out who they are at this moment.  This is the epitome of the mid life crisis. When all the things that they were supposed to have happened have already been done.  All the big moments have passed.  What now?   In talking to my women circle, I received a broad range of views on this. For now, I’ll focus on the feeling of irrelevance.  I’ll leave purpose for later.

Her Place

She couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment.  She supposed it had been gradual, happening all the while she had been carrying on with things. It was demanding she pay attention, that she heed to its beckoning, lift her head and take notice.  She hadn’t wanted to.   Things had shifted. She had become a ghost, floating in the midst of all this living.  Unnoticed, un-admired,  passed by.   So far from the center that she could no longer see where she had once been.  She could no longer see where she was to go next. She had seemingly lost her way.  A way that had been so sure before, so certain, so absolute. A journey that had been endless, lost its sense of direction.   She had no place.