The last few weeks have been a busy and sometimes difficult period for our family. Illness and bereavement marked the final months of winter, and it often felt that life was as stormy as the winds that raged outside. As winter trickles a path into spring, snowdrops pepper our garden and early daffodils peek out in bursts of yellow. The light returns to our mornings, the days stretch as we clear away plates from our evening meal. The season shifts and pivots, the winds rage again. Elsewhere, war descends on a raft of rage and power. I read, watch, listen – try to make sense of the senseless. I think of those who will bear the cost of things they have no say in.
I turn to the daffodil, trying to discern some kind of hope in its yellow bloom.
In my own life, the season also shifts, and light finds its way in through new and unexpected spaces. I secure a new job, working part-time for a charitable organisation doing valuable work right here in Caithness. My writing continues separately, and I submit work that is accepted for publication – work that someone thinks is good, meaningful. I send off a competition entry. I arrange an audio recording of story and music. I work on a collaborative writing project. I believe that my last novel is one of the best things I have written.
After several years of trying, I feel like I have finally hit my stride.
In the background to all of this, it is International Women’s Day. The day finds me in my mid-forties – which presumably means I’m now officially middle-aged. I feel the buds of my own seasonal shift, the tailing off of the things us women are never supposed to admit to. The aching joints, the fatigue, the hormonal dips, the anxiety, the spells of melancholy. I read a book called Confessions of a Menopausal Woman, and wonder why we are still expected to carry these transitions so shamefully.
Why we are expected to carry these weights alone.
We should not, of course, and it’s time to embrace the reality that women are often just hitting their stride at the exact moment the world perceives them as ‘getting older.’ That women are relevant at every age in their lifecycle. That we can help each other with our experience, our compassion and our curiosity. With our vulnerability and our strength.
We talk a lot about ‘strong women’ on International Women’s Day but that label applies to all women. I have known a lot of women. I have yet to meet a woman who is not strong.
So this International Women’s Day, I’m sharing the message that I’m only just hitting my stride, and also – that I’m getting a little bit older. And that those things align perfectly – that shame should never be allowed to exist or linger in that space.
I recently watched a TV show in which an older woman encouraged a younger woman to repeat the mantra ‘I can and I will’ in front of a mirror. Both women went on to achieve things that mattered to them and to the world.
So this International Women’s Day, let’s raise each other up, support each other, cheer for each other.
Even better, let’s do that every day.
We can. We do. We will.
G. x
Like you Gail, I only felt I had ‘achieved’ in my early to mid 40s. I had completed my degree as a mature student and had just finished my post 16 teaching qualification.
I have supported many young people into the beginning of their careers and I am proud of that, but looking back it was silly to think that this was the point where I had ‘achieved’. Prior to this, I’d married, built a home, negotiated the grief minefield of losing a parent, but most importantly I was in the process of raising 2 wonderful children – really they are my best achievements and will never be bettered by anything else, however all too often we accept society’s perceptions that this is just the normal thing women do and that we haven’t achieving anything until we do something extra. We are long overdue the time to change society’s perceptions, from both a male and female point of view, about what is expected of us and what we accept as normal for ourselves.
I’m now in my early 60s and looking forward to a fast approaching retirement. I have previously written many poems and short stories and I am currently, as you know, attempting to write my first novel and discovering how difficult it can be to transfer the images and conversations in my head onto paper or, more accurately, a digital file. Therefore I applaud that you have successfully achieved this, not just once, but twice. My story may never be published, but I will finish it – if only for my own satisfaction.
We can. We do. We will.
Thanks so much for this Linda, and absolutely, women are achieving so much at every stage. I also feel that my two boys are my biggest achievement – it’s absolutely true that societal norms tend to imply those kinds of achievements aren’t ‘enough.’ In fact, I wrote about that once, in a post from a few years ago – I’ll link that at the bottom here. I think the difference I find in myself now is more of a personal one – a sense of feeling more confident about myself and my own voice, in particular with regards to my writing. I’m so glad you’re progressing with your novel, Linda. Whether it’s ever published or not, writing has intrinsic value, and that’s an achievement in itself. x
https://gailantheabrown.com/2016/09/15/stay-at-home-mummy/
Thank you for this heartfelt post, Gail. So much resonates; from the hope found in those glimmers of spring whilst navigating our way through bereavement (sorry for your loss), to the menopausal shifts, and the beginning to hit our stride. I am all about supporting each other and your words lifted me today, right when I needed it. May you continue to bloom your way into spring.
Thank you so much Alice – so glad the post resonated for you. Sending the same seasonal wishes to you.