It was the washing machine that did me in the end of January 2023.
Ironically I had prayed for it to break for years so I could get a new one. The GE logo representing General Electric on my once fancy, energy-efficient washer might as well have stood for GENUINELY EXASPERATING as I endured an hour long customer service phone call with the company, where I was instructed to unplug, reset, tap-my-heels-together three times, and in the end, finally accept defeat that after ten years, my machine was, in fact, defunct.
If I were a writer worth my salt, I would have curated a detailed and educational--gentle, but blunt, witty and entertaining, list of self-care tips for a woman in her 40’s for how to manage stress, thrive in mid-life (statistically the demographic reader of this magazine), work, parent, and maintain relationships.
But my washer broke.
And in January of 2023, this simple problem was now a swirling vortex of panic--an irony not un-lost on me as I willed that stupid machine to swirl some suds.
So in truth? I’ve got nothing in the way of sage advice a year later as I now have a new washer, but still mountains of undone laundry. But please...keep reading.
I just know this: at the age of 43, I sat on a Tuesday morning in the floor of my filthy laundry room, willing my washing machine to work. Pressing buttons. Frustrated. Pressing more buttons. And sinking.
And in that mound of dirty laundry, I vaguely remembered a day just a few years earlier when I worked full-time as a sales executive and hiring manager--sitting in my office and being on a conference call, while simultaneously using a breast-pump (conference call on mute obviously), sending multiple emails, handwriting a grocery list, and eating a grilled chicken salad. I’m pretty sure I was sending some snarky texts to friends while all of this was going on as well--my wit still fully intact.
I was quirky and flawed, but calm. I was getting things done.
But on this Tuesday, just a few years later, guilt swirled in my coffee, in place of the dreams Carly Simon famously sang of. Panic peeked out at me from underneath piles of unsorted laundry and mismatched socks. In my messy car full of crumbs, where I used to be able to at least escape my disastrous house after I dropped of the kids in the morning and listen to loud, inappropriate music for a few carefree minutes, despair now seemed to seep from the air vents like a grey fog whispering to me you can’t do this. No place was safe from these unfamiliar, unwelcome emotions. And of all of these new feelings, the guilt was the heaviest. Because I had friends around me shouldering real burdens. The sudden, tragic death of a husband. Divorce. Children with disabilities. The loss of jobs. Health problems. Sick parents. The list went on and on. My children were healthy and thriving. My husband adored me, had all of his hair, and was still the only person in the world I wanted to be married to. I didn’t envy anyone else's life. I just couldn’t seem to get it together anymore. I could now barely manage to start the dishwasher without needing a nap.
For me, self-care was a predictable list you might find in a women’s magazine or some super cool, always, put together influencer’s latest post--complete with links to her favorite relaxation candles, spa treatments, and affordable Costco cashmere. But now, everything just seemed TOO MUCH.
HOW, do you determine what self-care looks like, when you wake up one day in mid-life and realize you aren’t exactly sure who you are anymore?
Because ultimately, it’s unrealistic to assume we can stay the same as we age. Nor should we. Research has shown that chronic stress and trauma changes our brains--affecting our prefrontal cortex, which is the part of our brain that seeks out social interaction. So all those things that used to ease our stress, just don’t do the trick anymore. Girls’ lunches, nights out--for some of us, they can just seem overwhelming. The fact that many of us now have multiple children, careers we attempt to manage from home, houses to help maintain, and let’s be honest--zero tolerance for wasting time, means that the definition of self-care is no longer a pedicure and a glass of Prosecco.
I’m no expert. Truly. Just a woman who has had to learn some new coping and self-care tips. I hope my admittedly rookie advice might help some of you figure out how to take better care of yourself this year. Or at least, help you get out of a funk--because we’ve all been there. So let’s do our best to help each other figure out what self-care looks like. Even if it means using Sud-Share for your laundry for 6 months.
Here are a few of my favorite strategies for taking better care of mid-life Sara.
Everyone needs a good counselor— That might mean an actual licensed professional or a really wise friend, someone who knows you well enough to know the difference of when you are just having a bad day and when you are having a certifiably bad day.
Get Rid of the Energy Vampires. The people you surround yourself with should never suck your energy or make you feel less than. If there is a consistent feeling you get with a person or people where they make you feel wrong, overly-sensitive, or insignificant--Walk away. Life is too short.
Just Say No. I never thought I was a people-pleaser until I entered my 40s. It’s ok to NOT make up an excuse or lie if you don’t want to go to a function. If they are your people, then they will understand when you say, “I love you. But I’m not going. Because I don’t want to.” (It’s also ok to say things like “I would be a terrible room mom at this stage of life because I
Forgive and Move On. One of the hardest lessons I’ve learned as someone who worries, is that the people I waste time worrying about, aren’t likely thinking about me at all. It’s true. And it’s ok. Let it go.
Exercise. I have gone through phases of life where I have truly enjoyed the challenges of a good workout where I sweat for a solid 2 hours, and others when it’s all I can do to lace up my sneakers and take a walk around the block. But, the endorphins are mandatory, no matter how minute the activity.
Last but not least...
Surround Yourself with the Goods Good people. Good activities. Things that bring you joy. That song, “I get by with a little help from my friends”, truer words have never been written. And you don’t need 15 of them. The term “tribe” has become so vastly overrated in my opinion. (Jesus Himself only had like 3 besties..I think? It simply isn’t possible to build authentic, real, sometimes raw friendships with 15 people. Invest in a few.
If you have a support circle of 1 or 2 or 3 people who get you and love you, keep them close. They will keep you sane.