Midlove

Brene Brown wrapped the term “midlove” around herself like a blanket in her forties. The famous shame researcher rebranded this psychological classic in an essay called “The Midlife Unraveling,” in which she described the nearly universal longing for alignment that accompanies waves of realization of our impermanence at a certain stage of life. Here, she characterizes the tension between the responsible bearings of adulthood and the radical impulse toward authenticity that can emerge as we begin to grok our humble status before time.

We go to work and unload the dishwasher and love our families and get our hair cut. Everything looks pretty normal on the outside. But on the inside we’re barely holding it together. We want to reach out, but judgment (the currency of the midlife realm) holds us back. It’s a terrible case of cognitive dissonance—the psychologically painful process of trying to hold two competing truths in a mind that was engineered to constantly reduce conflict and minimize dissension (e.g., I’m falling apart and need to slow down and ask for help. Only needy, flaky, unstable people fall apart and ask for help).

It’s human nature and brain biology to do whatever it takes to resolve cognitive dissonance—lie, cheat, rationalize, justify, ignore. For most of us, this is where our expertise in managing perception bites us on the ass. We are torn between desperately wanting everyone to see our struggle so that we can stop pretending and desperately doing whatever it takes to make sure no one ever sees anything except what we’ve edited and approved for posting.

What bubbles up from this internal turmoil is fantasy. We might glance over at a cheap motel while we’re driving down the highway and think, I’ll just check in and stay there until they come looking for me. Then they’ll know I’m losing my mind. Or maybe we’re standing in the kitchen unloading the dishwasher when we suddenly find ourselves holding up a glass and wondering, Would my family take this struggle more seriously if I just started hurling all this s**t through the window?

Most of us opt out of these choices. We’d have to arrange to let the dog out and have the kids picked up before we checked into the lonely roadside motel. We’d spend hours cleaning up glass and apologizing for our “bad choices” to our temper tantrum–prone toddlers. It just wouldn’t be worth it, so most of us just push through until “losing it” is no longer a voluntary fantasy.

Most women can relate to a secret glimpse of these thoughts, standing at the dishwasher and wondering how they got there, deliberating what to do about it, and then concluding in a repressively closed loop that self-sabotage might not be worth the trouble. Such inner dialogue could burn down the house. But it can also find healthy integration if we can befriend the survival instincts within us that are pointing us toward deeper congruence.

In a recent interview, Brooke Estin, a creative recovery coach, said “So many people come to me because they built the thing, and now they kind of hate the thing.” It’s particularly complex when we don’t hate the thing, but sincerely and profoundly love the thing. The kids, the partner, the dog — the life that we have painstakingly authored over decades. The life that is also a source of unspeakable joy. But we’re passing through a threshold now and a compass deep within us is asserting itself, mandating that we refine course maybe just by a few degrees. We are crossing the equator, pollywogs becoming shellbacks. We are way-finding now.

I have a feeling that my boathas struck, down there in the depths,against a great thing.

And nothinghappens!Nothing . . . Silence . . . Waves . . .

– Nothing happens?Or has everything happened,and are we standing now, quietly, in the new life?

-Juan Ramon Jimenez, “Oceans”

Today is my 40th birthday. I’m writing these words in the indigo hours of a new decade, in the company of a single source of candlelight. Not much will change between yesterday and today; I’m grateful for loving reflections from family and friends. And yet, in this expansive silence, I sense a rippling — some presence in the depths, a quiet stirring.

A threshold birthday can tune our awareness to read the signs. What is stirring within me? What wants to be met or reclaimed? What are my senses reporting? At first, our hearts might feel bewildered by the distance between the energetic blueprint of our spirit and its current iteration. We may have to grieve while paddling if we find ourselves having veered far from our intended course. But simple tacks carve change over time. With a rendering of midlove that includes patience, steadiness, courage, confidence, and intuition, we can firm ourselves on the path that is ours alone.

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