Are the sands of time shifting?
The midlife leap forward
It can be hard to see the way time passes in the day to day doldrums of domestic doing, and busy being. Let’s face it, one load of laundry begins to look a lot like every other load of laundry. It only felt like yesterday when you pulled that good old favourite recipe from your menu-stretched brain, relieved to have reduced the mental load of thinking about what to make for the bloody dinner without too much pain, only to realise it was actually three days ago and therefore perfectly acceptable to pull on it again. Recipe, rinse, repeat. Days roll along, we build habits, break habits, we potter, perform and plod, our brains in a constant marathon of monologue keeping us going. We might get magical moments of marvelling at where we are - a little jolt of recognition that we’ve come further than we thought; or a short, sharp shock of another week gone and it’s hard to remember much of any significance. (Menopause brain means it can be hard to grasp for our child’s name, never mind what happened last Tuesday).
So it often takes the annual events, or the less frequently repeated reminders that life is always an evolution and that a year has passed, or maybe two and actually, you’ve come further than you think. Or not as far as you’d hoped. Either way, it’s a chance to check back in and see where you are and what you need.
Because life is really moving fast… especially in the mayhem of huge swathes of midlife that are just rumbling on without much rhyme or reason.
I’m having one of those shifting sands of time moments now… literally with the sand under my feet.
I’ve been coming to this patch of perfection in Donegal for 15 years now. And every time I arrive and walk the long stretch of breathtaking beach for the first time it’s like opening my journal and seeing my past play out. It’s like the previous versions of me are waiting at the sand dune that hides the entrance to the beach like a beautiful stage curtain, and when I turn the corner and see the expanse of beauty revealed, they are there, waiting, and they walk this beach with me, excited to catch up on all my news.
The first me - awestruck by the beauty, a little hand in each of mine, my third daughter nestled in my bulging belly. Both my families were still intact, the one I was born into, and the one I was creating. My girls squealed with delight at splashing waves and gathered starfish and crabs in Little Mermaid buckets. I see that version of me, so expectant with life and love, with no idea of the horror and pain to come. She nods to me because that version, still expectant with life and love, is still within me, even if she lay bruised and battered for a long time.
I see the versions of me in the years to follow, so many hurt, grief-stricken, scared, angry, lost versions, my two families detonated apart by illness, death and betrayal. Oh how I wrap my mental arms around them as I begin the walk - how many times they walked this sand trying to piece their life back together. My life. And they did. It was so fucking hard at times, but they did.
And because of them, there are these many other versions of me walking this beach - the ones putting together new plans, rebuilding, dating, studying and retraining, the ones that wrote my last book and started building a business - my camaraderie of past selves glad to see me here today.
And this sand-shifting evolution shows itself most I think in the three young real women who walk beside me on this holiday. Those little hands that held mine on that first walk all those years ago are now glorious adults, 18 and 19. The one that had been nestling in my belly is now a vibrant teenager of 15. My beautiful, beautiful girls are now striding off into their lives, and I know there will always be a little bit of Donegal sand in their shoes. Because this place is part of our evolution. It helped build us all, and the new version of my family I had to create. It’s not just my versions I can see on this beach; it is theirs. The baby I brought here in a pram is now surfing the waves and then diving in to swim like a mermaid. The two older girls no longer collect starfish and crabs but they do still delight in the glory of the water, and the wideness of the sky.
Their dad had his wedding party last weekend having had his civil marriage a few months ago. As I dropped them off to celebrate, I’m not going to lie and say it wasn’t pain-free. But it wasn’t particularly painful either. It was what it was, and we all roll on. When my marriage ended after finding out my husband was gay 11 years ago, I could never have imagined how undramatic it would actually feel to help them get ready and send them off with a genuine wish to have fun. It didn’t come without feelings but those feelings didn’t dominate my own desire to get on with my life. How far I have come and only because of the versions of me walking this beach fighting for this place to be. When I’m coaching, and someone is stuck, it is never about guiding them to “move on” - but to move along with, whatever has happened. I’ll write about that next week, because I have not moved on. I have moved along with all the loss, but also all the love, the learning and the laughter.
Evolution means absorbing the shocks, not pretending they didn’t happen. It means processing the pain, not shoving it down for another day (because it will show up every day in some form until you do). It’s also about seeing the glory too. The post-traumatic growth. The what’s next. The what now. The versions of you still to come, that will walk alongside you in the future with their hand on your back.
All we can do is build memories. Six weeks after my first visit here, just four days after that baby in my belly was born, my mum had a catastrophic stroke that rendered her brain-damaged and paralysed for the next five years needing 24 hour care. She never got to come and visit me here but she is always here because she walks beside me too, pointing out shells to pick up and admire. But each year my brother would fly over and cover my mum’s care so that dad could drive across from Belfast and spend a few days with me here…. bridging my childhood experiences in Donegal with the ones I now gave my own. This year he is too ill to drive and so my brother is flying over to bring him and I realise my two families are actually still intact. The one I was born into, and the one I’ve created. They are just different. They have evolved. And it is easy to ignore or forget to see the shifting sands of timer beneath our feet.
Today I see it. I feel loss. I mourn the time that is gone, but I know my footprints in the sand here, washed away by the sea, left a mark on my evolution. I feel gratitude and joy and pleasure and fear. These sands have witnessed all the feelings! And I guess that is the human experience through all the shifting sands of time.
And lest anyone thinks I’m in some sort of zen pleasure zone of peace and perfection - I am also demented with trying to manage teenage moods and the UNBELIEVABLE inability of three girls to agree on anything. I have screamed, I have stomped, I have thrown myself into the sea in fury, and I love them. And they’re annoying. And it’s hard. And I’m so very grateful. And I wish they’d all grow the f*ck up. And I hope this never ends.
Life’s a beach, and then you die ;-)
Remember the sands are always shifting.
And if you need a little free summer mini-midlife guide for Getting Your Sh*t Together…. I have one! Here you do… some listening and some thinking… and as always, I love your thoughts. https://www.alanakirk.com/midlifeguide
And if you want to really think about where the shifting sands are taking you, how about coming with me for a four day coaching adventure to Marrakech this November? If you fancy getting away but not retreating (because it's time to move forward!) join me for Soul & Spice, an adventure that will delight your five senses and ignite your sixth sense - your sense of self. One night in the desert under the stars (in a very glam tent!) and two nights in our own Kasbah... this is an adventure with coaching, connection and camaraderie. You'll leave empowered, inspired and emboldened with a new joy de vie.
This is a pause with purpose.
It’s designed to help you:
✦ Reawaken your five senses in one of the world’s most vibrant cities
✦ Reconnect with your sixth sense – your inner voice, your spark
✦ Reclaim your sense of self through powerful group coaching
All the details are here.
And if you fancy one powerful hour with me to figure out your next brave steps details of my Breakthrough Empower Hour are here. (10% discount for my paid subscribers).
Please join me in the comments below (if you’re reading this in an email, please click on the link below to go through to the website to join the conversation.) And please take a moment to like and share if you enjoyed it!
It was Reid State Park for me early in July. I walked the beach and scrambled the same rocks I had when my entire life was unwritten--when everything was possible. The infinite horizon beyond the crashing waves, reminded me, at 63, it still is.