Those Aren't Wrinkles, It's Called Depth

Hi, loves. Sometimes we're so hard on ourselves, and it feels good to focus on what we've achieved rather than on what's fading, especially in the second half of life. Right? I know that sounds far more woo-woo than this new post actually is. It's part of our little series with Nina Müller-Peltzer (PCA® psychological coach), whom you already know from the posts “Back to Me” and “Freedom Tastes Different at 45 Than at 25.” If you'd like to know more about Nina or book a session with her, you can do that through her website. She's available in Berlin and remotely, and she's truly wonderful. Here's her take.

My bathroom light is sometimes a cruel sadist. That line right there? It wasn't there yesterday. And when I raise my eyebrows? It stays anyway.

I used to think that was awful. Depending on where I am in my cycle, I still do. But when you look at it in the light (yes, even in bad bathroom light), all it really says is: I've laughed, lived, gotten fired up, marveled, sobbed, suffered, loved, and celebrated.

Plenty of people call them wrinkles. To me, they're a sign of my depth. They tell the story of my courage to throw myself into the waves of life, again and again. I opened myself up to love and risked being left. I opened myself up to friendships and risked being hurt. I said yes to having kids and raising them, and I knew it would hurt: at the beginning, in the middle, and at the end. In other words, always, whenever I have to let go, whether it's pushing in labor or when my youngest moves out.

I've fought for things and stood up for myself. I've dished it out and taken it. Sometimes fate has kissed me, and sometimes life has landed a hard left hook. I've gone down and gotten back up. Screw straightening the crown, I'm no princess. I'm proud and humble, strong and weak, beautiful and wrinkled, many-sided and deep.

The second half of life: We're the first generation of independent women

Then I look into my deep-thinking wrinkle in the mirror and it hits me. Earlier generations tied getting older to withdrawing from the world. We're experiencing something new: the first generation of women to enter the second half of life on our own terms. To me, aging isn't a decline, it's a concentration of experience. I don't want to retreat. I want the world to get more of me: more of my insights, my experience, my thoughts, my point of view.

I belong to the first generation of independent women. I learned for myself, I supported myself, I built my own life, I made my own mistakes, I learned my own lessons. I belong to the first generation of women who, from the very start (brace yourselves, here it comes), were truly the master of their own situation.

And I have no intention of letting my sadistic bathroom light take that away from me.  Yes, the body changes. Yes, hormones do whatever they want. But that's exactly where the magic is. Things stay interesting, and there are still plenty of surprises waiting for me.

And when I still struggle sometimes, these three little tricks help me.

Why not try them yourself:

Mini-coaching: “Independent Woman”

1. Take an inventory of abundance:
   I write down what I can do better today than I could at 30, and then I'm amazed at how long the list is.
   
   
2. Notice your body:
   I look at one spot on my body that I used to criticize (for me, that's definitely my feet) and thank it for supporting and carrying me so well for so long.
   
   
3. Self-talk:
   I imagine I'm receiving a Lifetime Achievement Award and giving an acceptance speech that highlights my greatest accomplishments and best work. Then I have to laugh, and I'm happy about my new laugh line. It gives me depth and dignity.

How are you feeling now? And how do you deal with lousy bathroom light and deep-thinking wrinkles? Does your skin still bother you, or are you already enjoying your independence? What other topics are on your mind? Share them with us and we'll take them up in upcoming coaching posts.