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can you wish away the sweaty feeling of middle-age dread?

whether you're a man or woman, getting older can be sad and scary and anxiety-provoking, especially since it is a time of so much flux, with kids leaving, jobs wrapping up, finances declining, and physical ability slowing.

by lisa machado

sep 26 2022

8 minute read

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over 50 is the time to make fantastic lemonade with your lemons

middle age has a dark side, at its worst, it brings a special form of misery. getty

i recently got an invitation for some “hurly-burly” from a longtime friend.

the invite came with an ominous black and white photo of four old witches wearing long black dresses and tall, pointed black hats. they were sitting in a circle, one witch had a long craggy finger pointed at the others as if she was in the midst of some critical decree to her dedicated coven.

the details of the gathering were outlined in a five ws fashion, with the ‘what’ and ‘why’ being to burn “dead wood” (the fine print explained that “dead wood” was another name for self-defeating thoughts and any other negativity that was dragging us down).

the theme and look of the invite didn’t surprise me — my friend is an artist who once submitted a project for school that featured a doll with blond braids submerged in a self-made pond of dead leaves. “is it too dark?” she had asked, crinkling her nose with a mischievous look in her eye.

the night of the get-together, four of us sat under the stars, each with an orange cocktail in front of us — a recipe my friend had conjured up using some fruity bitters, vodka and sprigs of rosemary. the small wooden table we were sitting at was laden with plates of cheese and crackers and beautiful pottery bowls filled with nuts and flavourful dips. at the end of the table sat a square metal tray that had a small, black cast iron cauldron in the middle, a tiny jar of matches, a pile of brown paper cut into strips and four shiny grey pens in the shape of wands. beside the tray was a circle of four crystals — quartz — which i learned later was symbolic of energy, healing and balance.

the last few years had been hard. collectively, we had mourned the deaths of four beloved fathers — one of whom also took his wife with him after both succumbed to covid; another, tired of the pain of old age and not wishing to confirm a suggested diagnosis of leukemia, chose assisted dying; another passed away in his sleep, paralyzed in a nursing home bed after decades with dementia; and another died unexpectedly. throw in a tense divorce after one husband left his family for a woman more than half his age, a long, drawn out separation of a couple after two decades together and the traumatic loss of a brother, and we all acknowledged that no one could fault us if we were barely standing most days.

in the midst of the upheaval, each of us was also trying to find balance professionally. all middle-aged, we seemed to be stuck in reinvention mode: one woman was a playwright and actor, trying to be satisfied with work that only casts her within the confines of the older mother, a dying patient or an elderly psychopath, while another was an author contemplating moving from trade publishing to novel writing.

then there was the art teacher — having retired, she was now spending her time exercising (“just for health”) and figuring out how to make a little money and get a lot of fame with her real passions, which were puppetry and painting. the woman sitting closest to the cauldron had just quit her two-decades-long role that had her visiting farms and making sure their products fit the criteria to be sold at a local high-end natural food store — she was now considering an oyster shucking business back in her hometown in eastern canada. i, meanwhile, was simply trying to figure out how to make my dreams match up with my pay.

we were in the “third age”

and while it sort of felt like we were all doing a little rightsizing of our lives — something one should probably do at least once during their time on this earth — it was much more than that. we were aspiring to making changes, for sure, but all while being keenly aware that we were in the “third age” — or, more morbidly, the last stage — of our lives, and well, time was of the essence.

and it’s not like a woman’s wants are all it takes to make it so.

“it’s like women over 50 struggle to be relevant,” said one friend, as she popped a pink macaron into her mouth, and then reached for a blue one. “relevant in our jobs, relevant to our kids, relevant to our communities.”

she was the one who was always talking about how middle age has the capability to — at best — fill you with wisdom and the courage to take risks your younger self might not have. you know, that delicious “i don’t care” attitude that feels both warmly liberating and also wonderfully daring — shaving your legs, dying your greys, and spending time with people you don’t like just for show? screw that.

shelly emling wrote about her own list of seven things she “doesn’t give a damn about” now that she’s over 50 for huffpost, including a lacklustre libido, having a stylish purse that she can’t fit anything into, as well as uncomfortable shoes. exactly.

middle age can have a dark side

but jokes and pokes aside, middle age also has a dark side, said my friend. at its worst, it brings a special form of misery — marriages that have lasted too long, loafy kids who won’t move out or get a job, and the realization that, contrary to linkedin, perhaps those glass ceilings are actually unbreakable, at least within the working time that’s left (besides, who has the energy?) — that keeps you up at night with a sweaty feeling of dread that maybe all the sacrifices weren’t, in fact, worth it.

all of us were in the middle somewhere, on a quest for the fantastic lemonade we want to make with our lemons, somewhat loving — or at least liking — the lives we have crafted while feeling a bit down and out. it was time we caught a real break.

midway through the evening, my friend passed around the small shiny pieces of white quartz, the strips of brown paper and the pens, instructing us to write out what was bringing us down — our “dead wood”.

“does it have to to be thoughts?” someone asked. “can i put someone’s name?” said another.

“yes, yes,” said my friend. “whatever is sucking your soul away, write it down.”

then we carefully scrunched up our papers, and one by one, lit each ball with a match, threw it into the cauldron and watched the burn, oohing and ahhing as the black ashes swirled in the breeze. we admitted to feeling oddly satisfied — a little bit lighter — and someone took another strip, wrote some more, and burned some more.

we didn’t speak for a bit. then the playwright mentioned periods, someone else the lack thereof and soon we were debating the usefulness of pilates and the unfairness of low-waisted jeans — because even the most carefree woman is not unaware of the pressure to “age well.”

i mentioned a bald 60-ish neighbour who recently moved in down the street, along with his little belly and sensible brown loafers, and how the ladies on the block describe him as “cool” and some, even “sexy.” yet, women — no matter how ok we may be with our impossible menopausal waistline, occasional chin hair and crepey necks — are generally not afforded that same admiration, constantly reminded by social media, magazines, and clothes sellers (why can’t i find tops that cover my belly button?) that once we pass 50, we better step it up in some superhuman fashion to meet anything close to society’s expectation of sexy.

and while the shape in which we find our bodies and face once we hit middle age can easily mess with our heads and send us flailing to the gym and any cosmetics counter, there are other things too, apparently, that the middle age woman should pay attention to. like updating your beauty regimen, advises health — say goodbye to heavy makeup and hello to age-defying hyaluronic acid. oh and don’t forget your bra. after all, there are lots of reasons to get new underwear, not the least of which is mitigating the effect of gravity that, according to the mayo clinic, causes breasts to “stretch and sag.” cue the woman sitting near the cauldron who quipped, “omg! we would never tell a 60-year-old guy that it’s time update his faded boxer-briefs that show over the top of his jeans and are probably frayed where his thighs rub, right? or that he should ditch the teenage angst-scented axe for old spice, would we?”

we decided to agree that man or woman, getting older is not ideal — that it can be sad and scary and anxiety-provoking, especially since it is a time of so much flux, with kids leaving, jobs wrapping up, finances declining, and physical ability perhaps slowing. change hardly ever feels great or easy, and sometimes it seems that much harder to get past and over if you have wrinkles and grey hair.

as the evening wrapped up, my friend had one last activity for us: wish paper. she handed each of us a small square of red tissue paper, on which we were to write our hopes and dreams. then we wrapped each square into a cylinder shape, lit it with a match, and set it down on the table only for it to float up into the sky, the flame fading as it flew — symbolically bringing our wishes to the heavens.

and as we got up to leave, we shared our wishes and funnily enough, no one wished for younger-looking skin, a flat belly or hair that wasn’t grey. rather, it was hopes of happiness and health that were tossed through the night air — a reminder that when all is said and done, while it may feel like there are a million and one ways we are lesser than, there are really only a handful of things that truly matter.

lisa machado is the executive producer of healthing.ca.

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lisa machado

lisa machado began her journalism career as a financial reporter with investor's digest and then rogers media. after a few years editing and writing for a financial magazine, she tried her hand at custom publishing and then left to launch a canadian women's magazine with a colleague. after being diagnosed with a rare blood cancer, lisa founded the canadian cml network and shifted her focus to healthcare advocacy and education.

can you wish away the sweaty feeling of middle-age dread?

whether you're a man or woman, getting older can be sad and scary and anxiety-provoking, especially since it is a time of so much flux, with kids leaving, jobs wrapping up, finances declining, and physical ability slowing.

a 'longevity success story': canada's growing 85-plus group makes us wonder what the key is to healthy aging

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we were in the “third age”

middle age can have a dark side

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can you wish away the sweaty feeling of middle-age dread?

whether you're a man or woman, getting older can be sad and scary and anxiety-provoking, especially since it is a time of so much flux, with kids leaving, jobs wrapping up, finances declining, and physical ability slowing.

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we were in the “third age”

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middle age can have a dark side

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