Older, on purpose

It's my birthday this week. It doesn't really matter which Birthday it is and I'm not being coy about it, I have just noticed that the number is becoming the least interesting part of birthdays.

You may have also noticed there was no Field Notes in your inbox last week. That wasn't a glitch and I didn't forget. By the time I sat down to write it, I simply ran out of time. I could have pushed something out, tidied it, hit send on time and nobody probably would have been the wiser - but running out of time usually indicates I need a pause, so I did.

I want to tell you why that small, almost awkward decision feels like one of the more grown up things I have done in a while. It sits at the intersection of boundaries, expectations and listening to myself.

So. The last couple of months I have been on the run. Not running from anything, or even to anything. But I have been an object in motion. It has felt amazing and a stark comparison to how I felt this time last year when I admitted (what felt like) defeat and went onto anti-anxiety medication to help physically slow me down. I was moving like a deer in headlights. This year, I feel like I am the wind moving through meadows. With purpose, but no clear direction, moving towards an end point of rustling leaves in trees. Poetic, right?

Since January this year, I have been in some kind of mode of unrestricted creativity (well, by my standards), hustling to find work and build my business(es), starting new ventures (this) and actually leaving the house, like, a lot. Last night, I attended the last event I am responsible in my schedule and I am welcoming a break.

So last week, when I accepted that I would not be sending out a newsletter, it was an unintentional yet intentional choice and I am glad I made it. A few weeks ago I wrote about the pull to stop - the quiet tug I felt 5km from the end of a half marathon walk, and how hard it is to tell whether what you are feeling is the cost of the thing or the damage. I finished that walk but last week I didn't get any content out. Same question, different answer. I think the gap between those two answers holds most of what I have learned about getting older so far.

We talk about ageing as if it is mostly adding up. More years, more experience, more stuff in the drawer. We talk about wisdom as if it turns up with candles and honestly, I thought that was the deal so I am occasionally disappointed to learn that this is very much not the case.

But it doesn't, though, does it?

I know women a great deal older than me who are still running exactly the same pattern they ran at 20, just in better shoes. I have sat across from women much younger who can read themselves like the weather. So whatever wisdom is, it isn't simply the years. As far as I can tell, it is what you have been willing to notice during the years.

For me, most of it comes down to knowing when. Not KNOWING, in my brain. But intrinsically, in my body knowing. So this isn't a science. Knowing when to push, when to put it down, when 'no' is a boundary and when it is fear dressed up as one. When the tiredness is the kind a good nights sleep will fix, or when it is the weary kind that is asking you to change something.

Younger me didn't have much of that. She had one setting and it was to keep going. If it was on the list, it got done. Deadline? Deadlines win. I was proud of that mode for a long time. I pleased so many people. It was a very rewarded way to live - especially as a woman. You look capable from the outside and nobody thinks to ask what it is costing - not even me.

Here's what I would tell her now. Being consistent isn't the same as never stopping. 1% is still 1%. A thing you pause on purpose is still a thing you're committed to, maybe more so, because you have stopped treating it like it is something to get through and instead treating it as something worth doing properly.

There is something about birthdays that once you are past the age where they are mostly about presents, you start to take stock. This used to be about what haven't I done yet, why was I still single, why did I not yet own a house etc etc. It was a rat race on my own.

This year feels a bit closer to a check in, full of gratitude. I am still here. I am moving forward. Hell, I've CREATED things this year that I really enjoy. Pausing is on my list now. I am looking forward to 'wintering' myself this year, bringing things to a natural conclusion where it makes sense, pausing on other things, maintaining a status quo on others. None of this just magically landed with me when the candles on the cake appeared. It came in slowly, sometimes sideways and occasionally with a rough landing. That's the part no one tells you - Wisdom isn't a download - its the same lesson showing up again and again until you finally act on it.

I think most of us can imagine what a 'wise woman' looks like. The older woman you went to when you didn't know what to do. The one who didn't flap. Maybe she could tell the difference between a crisis and a bad week and could help you figure out which one you were in.

I don't think she ever got there by never stopping, but instead by paying attention over and over to what her stopping and her staying were actually made of. Being honest with herself on the days it would have been easier not to be.

That's the kind of older I would like to be. Not someone who has it all figured out (I don't think she exists and these days Id be suspicious of her if she did), but the sort who knows herself well enough to stop when she needs to and trusts herself enough to start again.

If you are heading into another year yourself, notice what you notice. Maybe it is heavier, lighter, a bit odd like a room where someone has moved the furniture.. here is what I have been sitting with, for what it is worth.

You don't earn wisdom by getting older. You earn it by being honest with yourself, especially when that honesty is not convenient. This looks different for everyone. A purposeful pause is just as important as taking action. You aren't falling behind, you are paying attending.