When I wrote that title, naturally the song “Stuck In The Middle With You” began chiming in my head. I had to google the artist, who happens to be Stealers Wheel. While I have never actually heard of them as a band, having been born in the 70’s I most certainly know the song. Further to that, I know that anyone for whom the following reflections will be meaningful, will also know the reference. So, you are welcome for that earworm! Now, very likely you also hail from the 70’s and you are potentially feeling “stuck in the middle”, like I am. The middle to which I am referring in this paragraph is actually our waistlines, but can also be extended to this “middle” time of life in general.
In the last 5 years I have slowly been watching my waistline change. I have extensively blamed the pandemic for having occurred perfectly as I entered into perimenopause. With the closing of gyms, a total change in routine, which lead to a lack of rigorous movement for a while, and the discovery of the Lemon Cream ice cream flavor at our neighborhood ice creamery, all it seemed to take was a few months of suboptimal habits to set me on this new trajectory of “thicker waistline.” In addition to the metabolic impact of perimenopause and the pandemic, both of these elements in my life seem to have promoted a stagnation of energy and progress on the whole.
Prior to the pandemic, I was beginning to understand that I am here in the world to do more than what I have been. While I very much enjoy offering clinical care, the one-on-one service does not allow my essential talents to be explored and expressed. There emerged in me this yearning to expand and serve beyond the treatment room. I suppose in some ways I was experiencing the mid-life query of “is this it?” And so I began to explore. And then my efforts were swiftly halted when the world stopped. I’ve been feeling stuck ever since.
The vast majority of my mid-life female patients comment on their waistline and a sense that they are carrying extra these days. A good number of my perimenopausal patients (and friends) are also looking at their careers, examining the manner in which they work in the world; they are engaged in the self-scrutiny of “how did I get here and where am I going…?”. Many women our age have school-aged kids who have lives of their own, mortgages to pay, and other people to whom they are accountable. We have grief that we have been unable to process because of a child (or children) literally tugging at our sleeves, talking incessantly as they discover the wonders of the world around them, or needing our full attention as their hormones begin to spin out the behavior of our once sweet little beans. If you have kids, how do you conceive of another version of life if you can’t even get 20 minutes of solid exercise on a regular basis? Thus, we find ourselves hemmed into a certain version of life. To imagine beyond this section of life’s weaving can feel impossible (and sometimes it actually is impossible!). We can easily feel stuck. During these years of parenting, sometimes the best we can do is remember to spend 2 minutes taking deep breaths, or spending the precious minutes during which the other parent has the kid(s) to pull out a paintbrush and have no agenda to produce anything in particular. That paintbrush is but a momentary balm for the weary soul. What happens tomorrow, let alone next year, is a total wildcard when you can barely figure out what to make for dinner tonight.
As I reflected on my own path, I realized that I kept looking back. I want to “get back” to weaving, I want to “get back” to fitting into those pants I love so much, I want to “get back” to feeling strong. Could it be that I am creating some of this stuckness by not engaging the forward moving energy of life unfolding because I keep trying to “get back” to somewhere? In our 20’s we have a vast expanse of possibility in front of us. I used to fantasize about prospects of living in places I had yet to discover, of experiencing pregnancy, childbirth and motherhood, and of creating my family and community. The visions were endless and fun; the world held great promise. And the craziest thing is that I had time to allow these visions to appear and unfold… Now, there will be no more babies, I will never have the family that is born of a marriage in my 30’s (because that marriage ended), and even though I now have discovered a corner of the world in which I would love to live, I don’t know what my son’s trajectory is but I do know I want to live proximal to his life. Decisions are more complex and I find that rather than daydreaming, I calculate and rationalize, because that is what I have time for. When I do go into imagination, I tend to go more into longing for what was, and I contemplate (you guessed it) how I can “get back” to a simpler life. The funny thing is, I was never someone to dwell in my past, but apparently here I am doing exactly that! And I do think it is keeping me stuck. So, I am committing to looking forward now.
In Chinese medicine, the energies of the liver and gallbladder are about movement: forward movement. The element of these two organs is wood. Wood is the energy of early spring that compels the buds to burst from the branch and the bulbs to push through the soil. The energy is one of initiation and forward movement, it is certain and full of vitality. Healthy wood energy moves smoothly and is unforced. Without healthy wood energy, nothing can break into new territory, nothing can move forward; the energy stagnates. Yeah, things get stuck! But guess what? 2024 is the year of the wood dragon and energy is starting to move! The wood energy will be more prominent this year, and more available for us to harness. However, if the wood energy within our own systems is at all compromised, we will feel it. This is the time to get that moving so that you can fully engage the energies at large.
Nature is creative. Nature will find a way. If that bulb has been dormant below a giant rock, it will dream a way around it, and push forth until it breaks through the soil’s surface. We need to allow space in our lives for our creative energy to move. When we are too hemmed in, the creative energy flounders (or does it get stuck? Haha.) So, what does it look like to allow ourselves space? This past summer, my son and I visited Germany. We had a sweet evening with a dear old friend of mine and as she bid us farewell after the requisite summer’s eve gelato, she said to me “I invite you to daydream. May this trip be full of daydreaming.” Daydreaming is allowing ourselves to return to that space of possibility and fantasy that I associate with earlier decades of my life. As kids we daydreamed all the time and that creative mindspace provided us with the inspiration to keep moving forward; in my 20’s I fantasized about all the possibility ahead. My friend now often reminds me to daydream, and I have to admit that I am finding it difficult to let go into that space of imagination and curiosity. When I do allow it fully, however, it is incredibly nourishing. When I let it happen, when I invite my right brain to come alive, when I soften myself to the expansiveness, I can feel the energy beginning to flow through my body again. One trick I have found is to invite my right brain to come alive as I lay in bed, during those very short minutes before I completely pass out. I invite it to bring forth dreams as I sleep, to be louder, to exert it’s creative, non-linear, unexpecting nature to just go wild! And somehow, I am finding that it does stay a bit more present in my waking life simply by offering it that invitation as I fall asleep.
As the energies of the wood dragon begin to flow and we look into the year ahead, how can we allow for the expansiveness of daydreaming and for the visioning of where we want to go? In the parts of our lives where we feel stuck, how can we open from within and take delight in the future? I invite you to concede some of the calculating and rationalizing to gift yourself with daydreaming. I will be over here, practicing the same.
