Welcome! I'm going to be posting some of my favorite articles from previous issues of Glimmer Magazine, here on the blog. Here is the original article that inspired the magazine and can be found in the premier first issue. I hope you enjoy it and please leave a comment with your thoughts!

*This is a screenshot of the magazine article, read full article below*

Part I The Question

When I was younger, I never thought about life after 50. It’s really bizarre.

Nor had I ever even noticed the demographic of women in their 50’s as being a vibrant, integral part of society, at least from my perspective. Besides for a random grandmother or office worker, these women didn’t seem to be around very much. I mean, it makes sense to a certain degree because of what’s called confirmation bias. Confirmation bias is when whatever we think about or focus on, our brain will automatically seek out to “confirm” our beliefs within the environment around us. This is why what we actively think about and seek out is so, so important. For example, if we constantly think of ourselves as victims of our circumstances, our mind will always find proof that we are indeed victims. On the other hand, if we consciously seek out the things that are beautiful in life, our mind will keep finding more beautiful things to be grateful for. 

So, for me, as a young woman, getting older was something I know I avoided thinking about.  But the funny things is, I DO notice and like to observe people around me and I definitely remember seeing senior citizens around. I noticed when they would go out with their friends for lunch and when they showed up at events. I noticed when they were grocery shopping and taking their good old time counting their cash and coins instead of swiping their credit card. I also remember noticing kids and teenagers and the women in my stage of life, but what I never remember noticing were the middle aged 50-60 something women. And if I did, they were usually the moms or bubbies in the background, or some sour faced woman all alone. Where were the fun happy groups of women at this stage of life?

This awareness really came up a lot after I moved out of Lakewood. Lakewood is a community that is homogenous in so many ways. Bubbies can also still be young moms, women mostly wear wigs which to some extent hide age differences and keep everyone looking similar. Families stay close and local, so many women don’t really feel the full effects of empty nesting. These, among other reasons, may be why this middle aged demographic didn’t really stand out when I lived there.

Once I left the bubble of Lakewood, in both North Jersey and South Florida, I noticed there was a very significant gap between the young moms and the old people. In Springfield, New Jersey, I literally did not fit into any crowd. I was either too old or too young. Where were all the people my age? I did find a wonderful crowd of friends in Boca and Miami, although in both groups, I was still the oldest and pretty much the first one to empty nest. I kept collecting friends younger than me because, again, it seemed like once you hit a certain age, the women just disappeared. There were not friends to be made my age, so my new friends just kept getting younger. Here in Netanya, you see the same dynamic: There are either young families or old people. I mentioned this to a new friend of mine, curious to hear what she had to say, and she replied, “Yeah, now that I think about it, where are all the women our age?

 

Part II The Bad News

On the day of my 40th birthday I woke up in a panic. (To a Gen X’er, turning 40 meant we were over the hill. Of course in today’s world, nobody considers 40 old anymore!) I went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror and breathed a sigh of relief. I looked exactly the same as I had looked when I was 39! I didn’t suddenly become a Golden Girl! Phew!

But I knew I was getting closer, so began to shift my perspective. I decided that instead of dreading getting older, I would literally seize each day as if it were my last and really just all out enjoy my life. All bets were off: I was still just as young, energetic, and gorgeous as before, but now I had more wisdom and experience, and I cared way less about impressing anyone or needing other people’s approval. This was the decade that I created my own line of clothing and sold pieces  to several boutiques. And it was also the decade I created Fashion-isha, the first Jewish modest fashion blog, which laid the foundation for a rich path for other modest and orthodox bloggers to follow in. And follow they did! It also afforded me some of the most wonderful experiences that included becoming one of the first modest fashion “influencers,” (although we didn’t use that word back then), getting published in magazines, meeting celebrities at fashion events, expanding my network of friends throughout the Jewish blogging world, getting invited to speaking engagements, and mentoring other bloggers. 

Simultaneously, it was also in that decade that things started unraveling in my personal life. I use the word unraveling, because as difficult as things seemed at the time, the unraveling was actually closing one chapter in order to bring in a new one.

All the while, the aging thing was actually pretty ok. Sure I complained about gaining a few pounds, and how the body was changing, but I still had my energy, went out, had fun, hosted people every shabbos, got dressed up, and pivoted my blogging into social media management, spirituality and coaching. 

Then I hit 50. I woke up and looked in the mirror and was like….ok…we are still good! My friends threw me a party on a boat and we had loads of fun! I started doing TikTok’s and reels on how this stage of life isn’t really that bad or hard at all. I was loving my badass Gen X attitude and telling people that we are the NEW generation of old people and we are different. I was actually IN that “missing” where-are-all-the-people-my-age decade and here I was, a strong voice for us all, except I was still the oldest in my friend groups, and if I think about it…where WERE the women in their 50’s just a few years older than me? Hmmmm….

And then I hit mid-decade, and one day I woke up and realized it had happened. 

I disappeared. Or at least I felt like disappearing.

Let me explain: 

Perimenopause and menopause are two very different things. Women in perimenopause like to use it as an excuse for weight gain and bitchiness, and love to complain about it, but comparatively it’s not all that terrible, really, when you take into account all the hormonal cycles and ups and downs we have experienced since puberty and our childbearing years. The symptoms are pretty similar: Moodiness, bloating, weight gain, intolerance of certain foods and alcohol, hot flashes, itchiness…blah blah blah. 

But during actual menopause something BIG happens. And I cannot exactly put my finger on it, but it’s pretty monstrous and extremely mental. The brain actually changes like in some sort of backwards adolescence, and you literally lose yourself in so many ways. The demons you once thought you’ve overcome come back with a vengeance. The courage (that IDGAF attitude) that propelled you towards new endeavors and success in your 40’s suddenly flickers out like a strong gust on a little candle. Our kids are pretty much grown and doing their own thing, which leaves us with a lot more time to overthink and overfeel. And, for many of us, life did not turn out exactly how we imagined, bringing lots of disappointments, regrets and sadness. Between all those circumstances, and the drastic hormone and neurological changes, it’s the perfect storm for those demons to come back to demand their final round of healing. This time they are bigger, stronger and hungrier than ever. They have you up against the wall, gun to your head, screaming, “It’s time to finally fix your damn life!”  And they’re not playing. You better fix all that stuff you stuffed down and said, “Nah, I’m good,” to, because it was too painful and exhausting to do the work to heal. And you would have had to show up for yourself, and that might mean you lose some people, and even a whole big chunk of your previous self. It might mean you have to disappear for a while. Even if you don’t want to. 

We wake up at 3 am drenched in sweat, our heads swimming with anger, grief, fear and regrets. (And on top of that we always have to pee!) We end up starting fights with the people we love, because our fuse is so short, and we feel so needy. And then the fights only confirm everything our demons have been screaming at us about: See?? You are not safe. You are not loveable. You made big mistakes. You always screw up. You’re a failure. It’s too late. What’s the point? 

These labels: “demons” and “monsters”, are pretty evil sounding, but in truth they are all the bits and pieces of ourselves…our actual  “angels” …that are begging to be seen, heard, hugged, accepted, loved, and set free. They have been our helpers and protectors in the past, and they need to be listened to until they feel safe enough to finally leave us alone. And replacing version 1.0 with version 2.0 is not for the faint of heart. First, we need to reassure them that we are safe and that no one can truly hurt us anymore because we are finally ready, with the knowledge that it’s our own responsibility to care for ourselves, set healthy boundaries, and create our own dream life. It’s scary as hell, because the people who are not jiving with this new healed self may get really pissed at us. Like if someone is used to you always saying yes, or always picking up their pieces, and then you stop because it’s not our damn job to be everyone’s yes man and fix their problems, you may lose something big, like the toxic people we convinced ourselves we needed. But not only that, we also have to lose parts of ourselves…the parts that craved being nice all the time to experience “love”, or the inner drama queen who creates situations that bring attention or validation to themselves, or the one who partied hard but really just needed to drink because she has social anxiety and still worries she’s not fun enough sober. We have to UNBECOME, and it’s scary AF.

These demons/angels are relentless, and therefore we are often exhausted and full of rage. We lose the desire to go out or have fun, and on top of that, we lose our sex drive, and it’s the sex hormones that give us that feel-good, sexy, I-can-conquer-the-world, dopamine filled motivation. And when that goes, all we want to do is lay on the couch, hide behind a screen, be by ourselves because socializing feels so pointless and draining, and then we feel even more alone. And god forbid we should make ourselves vulnerable and reach out to friends, even though the minute we do we feel better, and we probably help them feel better too, because they’re probably going through the same thing silently as well. But we don’t, because we are stuck, and sad, and we have lost ourselves.  We feel like disappearing. So we disappear. 

Part III The Good News

We have two choices in this stage of life:

1. Disappear. Curl up into nothingness. Hide behind a screen to wallow in your loneliness and misery. Or become that sour faced 50 something “Karen” you see who picks a random cause to channel all her aggression into. Or use alcohol and food to get you through and then get fat and sick, but at least you can fill your schedule with doctor appointments and taking meds to give you something to focus on. (Too many people accept that this is the stage of life where we start getting sick and needing tons of medications. This is all a brainwashed lie!)

OR

2. Disappear. Become a brave badass and do the deep healing work that needs to get done. Hire a coach or a therapist. Feel those feelings even if you need to scream, cry, swim in the sea, and do somatic weird-ass movements to shake it all off. Even if you feel silly feeling your childhood emotions at an age where the world views you as a full adult. Set strong boundaries and be ok with disappointing people. Lose the people that are not aligned with your upcoming best self. Lose the parts of you that think they’re protecting you but are no longer needed. (Like the “people pleaser”, the “self criticizer”, the “always-trying-for-the-perfect-body” self abuser, and the “scared wild child”.) Reassure those parts and let them know they’re safe and with YOU now. This is not for the faint of heart because our brains DO NOT want to lose the parts of ourselves that we’ve built around us (ego) and will resist as much as possible. It takes a lot of strength and hard work, and you may need to mourn the loss of your old self, but do it anyway. Then re-parent yourself with compassion, and affirm that you are safe and awesome, and that you got this, because you do. 

Then, slowly reappear: Make a bucket list and start checking the damn thing off. Go to music festivals, jump out of airplanes, do psychedelic healing, travel, start a new business, spend your money on things you’ve been pushing off, move somewhere exotic and scary. But mostly try to uncover who you are authentically, like before the world got a hold of you and shut you down. Try to think back to your first happy memory. What did you love to do as a kid? What were some of your “crazy” dreams and wishes. It’s time to re-become that person full of wonder and passion. Get out and connect with people authentically as YOU, and suddenly you will find new friends that align with you. 

And finally, take care of your health: Eat whole healthy foods, prioritize protein, take supplements like magnesium, calcium, zinc and vitamin D for your bones. Fix your sleep habits and rest when you need to. Get outside in nature and walk as much as you can. Lift weights a few times a week because you will need your muscles for the next stage of your awesome life. Now is the crucial use it or lose it stage. And finally, prioritize yourself, because you finally know that you’re worth it, and you will feel better soon, and you still have almost 1/2 your life left to live, and it’s on you to make it amazing.

Author’s Note:

A thought that came to me as I was talking with my 81 year old mom. I’m hesitant to use the cliched butterfly metaphor, but I have a little twist to the story. Usually, the butterfly story represents external beauty. The caterpillar is the ugly insect that spins a cocoon and eventually comes out as a beautiful butterfly. But did you ever actually watch a sped up video of the process? I recently did on an Instagram story and it was mesmerizing and devastatingly beautiful. (Just like childbirth). And I finally got my answer of where all the women in their 50’s are:

 They’re cocooning. 

When you watch that video of the butterfly struggling out of the cocoon, it is dark, scary and messy, (kind of like mascara running down a middle aged woman’s face).  Layers upon layers have to fall away and turn to rubbish, and it looks oh so painful. But keep this in mind: The next time you see that table of silver haired, wrinkly old ladies laughing together at the early bird special, or dancing away with no shame on a cruise, or sitting on the beach unfazed by their saggy boobs and bellies, just know, these are the real butterflies. They are no longer earthbound, or ego bound, they are finally flying and they are free, free, free. 

(And my Mom loved that!)

There you have it! Hope you enjoyed! Leave your comments below or email me HERE!

The Spring Issue of Glimmer Magazine is LIVE! 

Great News! 

Issue 2 of Glimmer Magazine is live! The theme is being the light and it's chock full of spiritual and practical tips for lightening your load, your life and your attitude before Pesach. There are also some great recipes, plus gorgeous fashion, design, and tablescapes, with lots of clickable links for easy shopping.  Below is the embedded flip book best viewed on a computer or iPad, plus the link to a downloadable, printable PDF file! 

There is so much love that was put into this issue, and I'm truly grateful to all my contributors and advertisers. Enjoy reading it and please share the links with your friends! 

PDF Link to Issue 2 of Glimmer Magazine

Link to FlipBook or flip through below:

From Cocoon to Glimmer: A New Chapter Begins

Life has a way of ushering us through many seasons—some filled with light and ease, and others where we find ourselves wrapped in a cocoon of transformation. After several years of navigating life changes, multiple moves, and the bittersweet journey of watching my children grow up and leave the nest one by one, I found myself in such a cocoon. Honestly, I felt stuck for a long time. It was a time of reflection, growth, and quiet evolution.

On one particularly challenging day, a special friend offered a gentle nudge: "Why don't you start writing again?" She reminded me that I had touched so many, and that she believed it was my calling. Those simple words reignited a long-dormant spark within me. What began as a tentative return to words soon blossomed into something far greater than I had imagined.

Today, I am beyond thrilled to introduce Glimmer Magazine-a sophisticated space for women of all ages and stages, created to inspire growth, health, healing, and the journey toward becoming our most authentic selves. This magazine is not just about glossy pages; it's about the light that emerges when we embrace every part of our story.

Glimmer is a celebration of resilience, empowerment, and the joy of living fully. It reflects the belief that it is never too late to rediscover your passion, rewrite your narrative, or step into the woman you are meant to be.

I am honored to share this labor of love with you. I hope it inspires you to find the glimmer of possibility within your own journey.

Downloadable PDF link to the full magazine HERE 

Or flip through the first issue of Glimmer Magazine here:

I Deleted Instagram Off My Phone and This Is What Happened

 It's been two full weeks since I deleted Instagram off the home page of my phone. Since then my life has become exponentially better: I started painting again which is something I've been wanting to do for literally years, and I finished my first project (a painted Louis Vuitton bag) within one and a half weeks. I also made the decision that even if I had to sit and stare at the walls in boredom it would be better than the black hole of scrolling that had consumed a massive amount of the last few years of my life. And what happened was that I was forced to notice my feelings, and through them, I was able to address certain fears and insecurities that were holding me back. This led to me actively working through healing processes that I spewed about on social media, but had obviously been running away from, by escaping into virtual reality and playing the role as the coach, healer and expert. And man it's definitely easier said than done. But I did the uncomfortable work by really going deep into my feelings, listening to the  parts of me I had been keeping hidden away, giving myself compassion and then finally shifting into a new version of myself that was dying to come out. I also faced one of my most uncomfortable fears and resumed writing a book that I started literally five years ago. 

One of the things that I did to set myself up for success was to replace the Instagram app with a journaling app. Because these social media apps have been designed and programmed with AI to get us all addicted and distracted to the point that if we don't post everything we're doing, eating, or feeling it's as if our lives don't count at all, I knew that I would instinctively go to and click on the app in that location whenever I felt bored or tired. But what I found out was that in those first few days, my neural pathways were so ingrained to click on the app, that I did it constantly throughout the day without even thinking about it. So I journaled instead. I also realized that taking photos and posting things in and of itself is not a bad thing; it was and is something I love to do as a powerful form of self expression. The difference was that I was doing it privately for myself, which eliminated all the expectations for likes, comments, messages...aka outside validation! 

With every day that went by, my addiction to clicking on the app started to wane, and I began to feel empowered about keeping my life private, as well as saving loads of energy that spending time on social media seems to zap out of us, for writing, painting, and expressing creativity in ways that served to boost my own self esteem and love, rather that steal it away. I also actively made an effort to reach out to friends and family that I love, or wanted to get to know better, and scheduled to meet up with some of them. I created a social calendar for myself that was full enough to not feel isolated, but also gave me my own space to expand myself, heal and create privately.

Looking back on my journal posts, I realized that on the first few days I wrote as if I was planning on posting what I was writing on social media to "share" with the world; because that is somehow how I justified spending so much of my time on the app. I convinced myself that I was "inspiring the world," and that after a week or so I would get back on and share my posts. But, my mental health and life in general got so much richer that as the days went by, my journal posts became more personal, real, and for-my-eyes-only, as journal posts should be! 

This morning I woke up and decided it was time to write about my two week experience more publicly, but in a space that is my own and has a lot of meaning for me. Opening up Blogger and logging on was like coming home to a place that gave me so much joy and fulfillment, even before Instagram was invented! Will I go now and post this link on Instagram? I have no clue yet. Maybe I'll just leave it here and whoever is meant to see it will, and that will be enough. Maybe not. But either way I am writing this for myself in this moment. 

So now, I'm going to selectively share some of the thoughts and insights I recorded in my journal that will bring light to my Instagram detoxing experience. Of course I will only pick out the things I posted that I choose to include expressly for the sake of sharing some of the journey of the experience. 

Sunday, February 25, 2014

My first journal post was a voice note I recorder that is loosely transcribed here:

    "So I replaced my Instagram app with this app so I could take a break from Instagram which I started to find was very toxic for me, and it was sucking out the time that I could be using for more creative endeavors. And I know if I do some creative things, I will be happier. So, since I added this app, it's been maybe an hour and I clicked on it like 3 times just instinctively and then I would just quickly turn it off, so now I'm entering my first journal entry. It's Sunday morning, when I should be saying my tehillim and davening and connecting spiritually, but of course I keep going back to my phone, so one of my goals this week is to get more connected spiritually and elevate my vibrations to feel the love of the world for myself and others and do my creative work without having to post it or get validation for it from Instagram which is extremely toxic."

    "....I already feel so much better abut writing in this journal than scrolling or posting on Insta. With posting there are expectations of validation; with journaling there is just relishing and holding onto the current emotions and moments for yourself. I can already feel how much healthier this is for me."

Here are some more journal screenshots. (Note: I cut off parts that I'm keeping private and are not relevant to this post):

Monday, February 26, 2014

Journal voice note about self expression for the sake of self expression for yourself, transcribed loosely:

    "Another thing I'm learning about myself through this practice of journaling is that I have so much to express. I have so many ideas that keep coming to me that I need to express. The problem is, when you express on social media there are only a tiny percentage of people who are going to see it or respond to it. When you're putting it out there, it kind of comes with an expectation of results. So with that expectation comes the disappointment of realizing that most people don't even appreciate what you have to say (it waters down your impact, as opposed to sharing one on one with real friends). And that can trigger feelings of not being heard, seen or appreciated. But when you write it in a journal it's just for you. There's no pressure whatsoever. Expressing yourself does not necessarily depend on the approval you get to be valid. Whatever you want to express is valuable and worthy in its own right, and based on your perception, not anyone else's. As the famous quote goes: The way others react or respond to you is always about them, and not about you."

Tuesday, February 27, 2014

Monday, March 4, 2024

Thursday, March 7, 2024

Friday, March 8, 2024

This was after my daughter ran in the Jerusalem marathon and I got the itch to share. But I ended up sharing on WhatsApp with close friends and family only.

Pretty much towards the end of the first week, my posts were mostly private journaling, rather than about being off Instagram.  It took LESS THAN A WEEK to wake up and live fully outside the metaverse without feeling any lack or emptiness (besides for a few minutes a day of Pinterest scrolling for inspiration for my creative endeavors).  Once I unglued myself from the muck of AI addiction it becomes crystal clear how dull, repetitive, competitive, and negative life is in there as opposed to living in the real world. Even if that includes times of boredom and facing uncomfortable emotions. Life is still richer and healthier offline. I'm honestly mindblown at how effective AI is at convincing us of the opposite! 

I now see Instagram simply as a tool. Perhaps I'll share this very post there. Perhaps I'll visit once in a while and create some content when I feel like I have something worthy of sharing. Or perhaps I'll just let it go for good. Because after two weeks I hardly miss it and can clearly see it has done nothing beneficial for my life. And yes, I'm even including the fact that it helped me facilitate some fame back in the Fashion-isha blogging days. Really! What has it given me that I have sold my soul to the machine for? It hasn't made me more rich or authentically loved. And it certainly has not aided in healing what needed to be healed. If anything, it did the opposite. If and how ever I decide to use social media, I'm going to be the one using it, and not the other way around.

With much love,

Sharon

March 10, 2014

A note on being an activist on social media: This may get me some hate, because I know from personal experience that getting swept into becoming a keyboard activist for a cause gives you a tremendous sense of purpose and accomplishment. The ego will convince us that we are changing the world and without our posts the world will fall apart. But here's the truth: The world IS falling apart and full of evil regardless of our posts.  The world is ALSO constantly being built up and full of beauty, love, joy and goodness. The perfect example is Israel: For people who only know Israel from media, it is a scary, dangerous, war torn, politically broken, sad, and for many, evil place. But in the real world, Israel is exquisitely beautiful, constantly being built up, full of joyful, strong, resilient, kind, friendly, and crazy fun people of every race and religion. Today, an Arab couple out celebrating the upcoming Ramadan stopped me to ask if I would take a picture for them. The interaction was light and friendly, as if all was good and peaceful in the world. And in that snapshot of the moment, in both my world and theirs, and the world of everyone who was around us, IT WAS good and peaceful! New high tech and modern buildings, roads, train tracks, gourmet restaurants, and businesses are popping up and flourishing at a pace that is nothing less than miraculous, despite any concurrent darkness. But the metaverse (and that's where we all are when we're spending hours on social media), is a way darker place than the real world. Inside, we have access 24/7 to every horrific thing that is going on. We are literally exposing ourselves to too much darkness! G-d created us to have a limited experience based on our own personal lives, not to have to experience every terrible thing going on in the world at once, or to have to see everything everyone is busy with all day and night. This is absolutely terrible for our health and well being and does very little to actually affect things in the real world. We've been brainwashed about how evil it is to stay silent on social media, but by spending hours inside a virtual world, we deplete any and all energy we have to actually take actions necessary to try to fix the real world. This, I believe is purposeful and part of the evil agenda of social media. (Apple's logo is pretty much symbolism for Adam and Chava's Eitz Ha'daas fruit! And guess who the snake is?) A cordial conversation with an Arab taxi driver is far more effective than reposting online trolls to show how "bad" people who are sitting behind their keyboards (or bots) are. I've wasted hundreds of hours as a keyboard warrior and it has done nothing to change whats' going on on the outside. What it does do though, is it rots us on the inside, causing us to feel frozen, stuck, paralyzed in doom and despair, and eventually desensitized and brainwashed.  I've learned that by getting out of there and actively using our energy to become our best versions in the real world, we can change the environment around us, which creates a ripple affect around the world. If you have a blessed life, but feel guilty because it's so bad on social media that you feel like you have to post, it's just an illusion. Get out of there. Enjoy your blessed life and give back in the real world. 

Why I Am Scared To Write This

 I am scared. I am really scared.

Last night, while laying in bed I promised myself that today I would start writing again. It's been a really long time. I'm scared because of the subject I'm writing about. I'm scared because I'll be exposing an unattractive side of myself. I'm scared because I know that, according to the demographics of my socials, most people who will be reading this are of a different generation, and when I was their age I would not have wanted to read about this. But, this is exactly why I am writing. Maybe if someone like me was the one writing it I would have read it. And maybe it would have given me hope and a better perspective. So I am writing this for me. And if this ends up helping others in not feeling isolated, washed up, or misunderstood then that's even better. 

I am writing about getting old.

I'm not sure if I'm unique in this, but when I was younger, it felt like there were two separate species of people. There were young people, and there were old people. And we were different. I'm aware that this outlook is pretty obnoxious, and I admit that I was an "agist" and had struggled with connecting to older people. I found it annoying when old people moved slowly in the grocery aisle, or took forever to count their change while paying for something when they should just be swiping their credit card and getting on with it. And don't even get me started when it came to getting stuck behind an old person driving. It was irritating when I'd have to wait for them to find their glasses to see something on their phone, or when they would say "what's that" a bunch of times because they could never hear what I was saying. 

The night before my 40th birthday I panicked because 40 was such a scary number to me. I literally felt like I was still a kid in some sense, but time was ticking along anyway. When I woke up and looked in the mirror, I breathed a sigh of relief, because I looked exactly the same as 39: Young, pretty, energetic, cool. I made a decision that I would live every day as best as I could because I suddenly became aware that there's really no going back, and I would fight like hell to create more meaning in life while maintaining my looks, body, energy. 

And I did. As a matter of fact, it was in my 40s that I started this very blog, becoming one of the first, original modest fashion bloggers. I also looked my best, ran my first 1/2 marathon, donated my kidney, and grew spiritually from some difficult, life changing events during this decade. It almost felt like I came into myself and my full adulthood only in my 40's. And I fought like hell to appear and act young. I had this! I was going to win this battle on aging.

It was all going pretty well up until the last few years. Enter peri-menopause, 20 pairs of reading glasses all over the house, a changing body that includes shrinking and a belly that persists no matter how many foods I eliminate or how much I work out or how many supplements I take, my youngest kid leaving the nest, sweat pouring down my face every time I drink, and then sweat pouring down my body at 3am even when I didn't drink, a diagnosis of osteopenia, a bout of skin cancer, insanely itchy skin, losing my drive to go out at night with friends, losing my sex drive, feeling down and lonely for no reason, feeling unmotivated and purposeless, not being able to get my shit together because I was so afraid of walking into that dark night of old age. 

I realize now that this judgmentalism and discomfort with older people was because of my acute awareness of how this would eventually happen to me, and I didn't want to face it. But no matter how much I fought it, it inevitably started creeping up in my own life. Giving in to reading glasses and then having them perpetually perched on the top of my head...sometimes 2 at a time, but then nowhere to be found when someone wanted to show me something to read or see. The not being able to hear as well and having to say "what" which profoundly lessened my chance of ever finding out what was said at all because people really despise having to repeat themselves. The shock when I caught my reflection in a window and would see what looked more like a little Bubby than the Hot-Mom vision I still had in my mind. These things creep up slowly in a way that are are hardly noticeable, until it hits you like a cold shower. Why did I never stop to think that the old people I saw were once the young, beautiful and vibrant people? 

These are some of the thoughts that swirl around my head as I lay in bed, staring at the ugly ceiling fan that I used to despise, that is now graciously generating the cool air I need for my overheating body. I am face to face with the terrifying knowledge that I am currently transitioning into an old person. I know a lot of you will say, "Come on, you're not old. Stop it." Well whether I'm old right now or not, the fact is that in less than 1/3 of the life I have already lived I most certainly will be. If I'm lucky. And like everything else in life, it's not a destination, it's a process. As I toss and turn trying to get comfortable in a bed I used to easily fall asleep in, I am no longer in denial that I am currently, and most certainly in that process. So I promise myself I will start writing about it. Even though I'm scared that it's a topic no one wants to read about. Because I can. And I'm good at it. And it's time to add meaning to all of this dread.

I know a lot of you will say, "Why is this so dreadful for you? It's such a blessing, you have experienced so much and you are lucky to be on this journey." And yes, that is 100 percent the truth. I am lucky and blessed. And I'm fully aware that I look great for my age. But as someone who has feared becoming that annoying old person, and as someone who has spent decades working on my fitness, my physical and mental health, and feeling purposeful, it really sucks that suddenly, when I'm no longer useful as a vessel for bringing life into the world, I have to experience this twisted version of a reverse adolescence. It feels like suddenly, the body and mind have conspired to send this message all at once: YOU ARE OFFICIALLY IN DECLINE. BE PREPARED TO WATCH YOUR SKIN AND MUSCLES SHRIVEL UP AND YOUR BODY EXPAND. YOU WILL ALSO OFTEN FORGET THINGS AND FEEL LIKE SHIT, AND NOT TOLERATE MOST FOODS, AND NO ONE REALLY CARES BECAUSE IT'S "NORMAL". SO SUCK IT UP. OH, AND IT'S REALLY HOT IN HERE TOO. WELCOME TO HELL. 

Okay, okay, it's not really always that bad. My mind can be quite the drama queen sometimes. But, I can no longer be in denial that old people are not a different species. The truth is, we are all the same. We are actually all souls that don't age at all, but appear differently depending where we are on the path of life.  And as I move further along on that path I accept that I am the same as even that old lady I just saw pushing her yelping mini-doggy in the baby carriage. I now know that she still feels like the same person inside as she was when she was younger, and only her shell has changed. And she is probably sad that people avoid her or get annoyed with her because they are under the illusion that she is somehow different, flawed, over. 

So now, if I'm stuck behind an older person blocking the aisle in Home Goods or Target, inspecting every throw pillow or smelling every candle, I try to be friendly and kind. Maybe she's taking her time because she does not have anyone to rush home for anymore. Maybe she hopes to experience some type of human connection when she ventures out. So I will say hi and spark a conversation. And it's pretty gratifying. Not only because it's always a good idea to be friendly and kind to all humans, but because old people are actually really smart and funny. Of course they are. They've been in this game of life for longer than most.

I've really been trying to reframe it all. I joined TikTok and started making videos showing that women like me in their 50's were still cool, good looking, energetic, funny and relevant. Surprisingly, I found a huge community of TikTok users in my demographic. At first I was a little shocked at how some of these people looked. Hey, I'm at that weird stage in my life where people my age all look older than me :) But damn! Some of them actually looked really good too. Like a 55 year old female body builder who is drop dead gorgeous and probably thriving more than she has ever thrived in her life. These people were making TikToks and having fun. They were talking about exercise, healthy eating, supplements, and natural "meds", instead of running to seventeen doctor appointments and getting steroid shots and physical therapy for their achy joints. THANK GOD! I realized that the aging people of today are not exactly following the same rules as those in the past. Maybe we should actually change the name of this stage from "Menopause" to "Adolescence Part II". We are definitely going to be a different kind of old, and I'm really vibing with that.

So here I am. As I write, I walk through the fear and realize that the future does not have to be that bleak reality of retirement communities, hideous capri pants, bleeding lipstick, and being a lonely dog mom.  Just like we survived acne and insecurity and sulky moodiness in our teens, we will survive hot flashes and low libidos and facing new frontiers at this stage of life. And it's because of my elderly wisdom and experience that I now know what I didn't when I was in Adolescence Part I:  That without a shadow of a doubt it's up to ME to do the work and create my own incredible future, bringing in the best damn years of my life. There is no denying anymore that it's coming. I WILL be an old lady. The free, fun, fit, healthy, compassionate, amazing version that you might actually look forward to becoming. Cheers!

xx

Sharon

*In my next post I will share with you my most annoying symptoms of this stage of life and the remedies that I have found useful to me. As someone who avoids going down the route of doctors, hormone replacement therapy, and Pharma meds (unless G-d forbid my life depends on it), some of my personal remedies may sound controversial to some of you. But that's what makes this so interesting. I am a seeker and adventurer and I am having fun tweaking my life to counteract some of the discomfort of aging. Stay tuned!

On the Covid Vaccine: My 30 Year Wellness Journey and Why I Feel the Way I Feel

The idea for this article was formulated after I posted an Instagram story about how disturbed I was that Quantas Airlines was considering mandatory vaccination to fly their airline. I was actually quite surprised when I got some comments opposing my negative attitude about a potential COVID VAX PASS for traveling. One woman left a comment asking: “Sharon, why are you so against vaccinations? Didn’t you vaccinate your kids?”

Honestly, I was overwhelmed by that question because I have never been an anti-vaxxer, and yes I did vaccinate my children with the required vaccines. I even remember feeling judgmental at one point towards anti-vaxxers. So I actually get it. When we learn something that feels right, it becomes our belief system, and it’s really difficult to understand those outside of it. But I was actually surprised that the concept of not wanting to inject myself or my kids (and grandkids) with a brand new, rushed vaccine, with a new technology that affects our RNA, was equivalent to being against all vaccines. I realized there was no short answer to that question, because I have had years and years of personal experiences that have led me to feel the way I feel. 

From the time we are born we are ALL indoctrinated to believe in doctors, vaccines, and drugs. Our lives are in their hands from day one! We are taught that our lives are being extended and saved on a level like never before in history because of vaccines and Western medicine. Right? And yes, I believe this may be true to some extent and I am grateful. But the system we have become dependent on and have put all of our belief into is far from utopian. See, you have to kind of get screwed by that system to start waking up to what’s really going on. And even with that, it's not all black and white or good vs. evil. That's why it's important to open up our minds, get educated, think for ourselves, and find some type of balance that works for ourselves and our families. So here, I will share just some of my stories that have led me to thinking the way I think and living the way I live, especially during these crazy times:

1990: The Pediatrician:

The morning after I gave birth to my first child, the pediatrician on call came into my room and, being a nervous first time mommy, felt a wave a relief when he told me with real care and compassion that it was totally normal to feel overwhelmed and I could always feel free to call him at any time, no question being too stupid. He also told me to make sure I make some time for myself, and that it wasn't selfish if I needed a break from my baby. This was way before we had social media support, and before “self-care” was a thing, so hearing this was everything.  I was thrilled to have met such a wonderful pediatrician, who eventually became a close family friend. He would see us in his home office whenever we needed off hour visits, and he always gave me his “free” sample bottles of the “best” most expensive antibiotics he had in his “hidden” closet.

I would often come to his office, and notice the stylish, savvy pharma reps dropping off gifts, samples and basically kissing a$$. As a young stay at home mom, stuck in gloomy central NJ, I remember dreaming about working for a pharmaceutical company - traveling and taking doctors out to sell my magic potions for great profit. After all, it was those reps who always dropped off all those beautiful free samples that my doctor was always generously giving me so my babies would sleep the minute they whined for a second or tugged at their ears. Believe me, I get the magic of a doctor that waves his drug wand promising to make everything ok.

My first indication that putting a baby on antibiotics for basically his entire first year of life is not exactly the best idea came when I took my 2nd child to the dentist, and he told me that he could tell that some of his adult teeth coming in were damaged. I was shocked! When I asked why, he asked me if he’d been on a lot of antibiotics. I said, well…he was that kind of baby…colicky, cranky and always getting sick…so basically he’d been on about 8 rounds of antibiotics in his first year alone! The dentist just nodded his head and said it makes sense.

At the time, I didn’t understand what I do now about how taking too many antibiotics messes up the “good bacteria” balance in the gut, causing all kinds of problems and affecting many delicate processes. (Including serotonin production!)

As I became a little bit more wary regarding antibiotics, I spoke to the doctor and he told me straight up that most ear infections are viral and doctors give antibiotics even when not necessary because it appeases the parents. Also viruses thrive on bacteria so if you wipe out the bacteria the virus is not as potent. What he didn’t say was that when you wipe out the bacteria you’re also wiping out the good stuff. 

A few years later, my doctor moved further away from my home, so going to the doctor became a whole trip. I still loved him and his practice, but I was starting to become more aware. I understood that the doctors were getting kickbacks for the meds they prescribed, and that my kids did not need antibiotics every time they didn’t feel well.

I started to learn why some “crazy” people were taking their kids to the chiropractor for ear infections: The gentle adjustments helped drain the fluid that was causing the pain and infections, in order to avoid antibiotics. Crazy started sounding not-so-crazy.

Eventually I implemented my new "sick rule." If my kids didn’t feel well, we waited 24 hours. If they had a high fever or still seemed unwell after 24 hours we would go to the doctor. And guess what? 99.9 percent of the time we didn’t end up going to the doctor. I also started noticing how often my friends were running to doctors and putting their kids on antibiotics and all kinds of meds, and how much less my kids got sick once I stopped running to doctors and putting them on meds. It was quite eye opening.

1995: The Internist

When my 3rd child was born in 1995, we were in a transition. We were planning on moving out of Lakewood, but our plan fell through and we ended up moving in with my mother-in-law temporarily. It was definitely a low-point in our lives. I was post-partum, 3 kids in, without a home of our own, and literally starting a new business from scratch.

I wish that I knew what I know now: Sometimes plans don't work out in order to give birth to new and better things. But at the time I suffered from terrible anxiety. The kind of anxiety that is really, really frightening. The kind that, I’m assuming is driving a lot of today’s population to believe in something….just something…anything…even if it doesn’t make sense…to save them. Like a mask? Perhaps a vaccine? Believe me, I get it because I've been there.

I went to my internist and the minute he walked in the room I burst out crying. I told him I was hardly functioning and I had awful anxiety. I  told him that I wasn’t sleeping, and I needed to sleep because I had 3 kids, one a baby, and how would I function? I was a wreck. He, unlike my pediatrician, was not empathetic at all. He just looked at me expressionless and told me I have postpartum depression. If felt like he was just slapping a label on me and proceeded to write me a prescription. As he wrote on his pad, I insisted it wasn’t PPD, because my baby was already 8 months old and I wasn’t depressed, I was just anxious and afraid and my life had been turned upside down. He told me I was wrong and prescribed me with anti-depressants and sleeping pills. (He didn't even give me anything for anxiety!) He told me I must take the meds and come back in 3 months for more. 

Looking back, I probably should have gone to a therapist, not an internist. But back then, young mothers hardly went for therapy unless they had REAL problems. Therapy was way more taboo than it is now. Again, without social media, we had very little support or knowledge as to what was normal or considered a real problem. Women struggling as young mothers with anxiety began to gain awareness just a few years later, with the advancement of technology and better access to the communication and information that came out of that.  

So I went home and took my pills.  I don't really know if they worked, or if I just calmed down a little because I was doing something. I was definitely still not 100% ok for a long time, and I realized that I most definitely did NOT want or need to be on meds forever. I also was getting scared of how addicted I had become to the sleeping pills. I would worry about never being able to fall asleep again without popping a pill.

Now let’s keep in mind that the 90’s was the era when the pharmaceutical companies were heavily promoting their amazing, miraculous meds that essentially got a portion of America addicted to pills. And later, some of their kids too, from swiping the bottles out of the medicine cabinets during parties or episodes of drama or depression. I used to get full bottles of the strongest pain killers (aka opioids aka rich man's heroine) after I gave birth. You can google the pharma lawsuits and all that fun stuff if you want, but that's when I started realizing that many doctors were just glorified drug dealers. Not all, but many.  

I have no idea why or how I had the motivation to do what I did, but I decided to get myself off the pills. I would get through the afternoon, and after my kids were sleeping, I’d go into my guest bedroom close the door and lean out the open window and give myself therapy. I would sometimes cry and even scream at myself things like, “I WILL NOT DIE IF I DON’T SLEEP! I WILL NOT DIE FROM ANXIETY. I AM A STRONG FREAKING MOTHER AND WIFE AND I DON’T NEED DRUGS TO FUNCTION.” I was doing verbal affirmations way before they were even a thing. Before bed, I broke my pills in 1/2, then in 1/4’s and then I just touched the bottle as a placebo to sleep. When I could sleep with the bottle touch I knew I was ok.

One day I ran into my internist jogging along the lake, and he stopped and said to me, “Hey, I haven’t seen you back in the office. You need to come in for more meds.” I told him that I was off the meds...that I had gotten myself off.  He looked at me like I was nuts and said, “You can’t do that. No one does that.” I smiled and said, “Well, I did. Bye.”

I never stepped back into his office.

Early 2000’s: THE FLU VACCINE

One day, another doctor friend of ours saw me in the grocery store and came over to tell me I should make sure to come in and get my flu shot. I was like…what shot? 

Now, I was born in 1968. We got the flu. That was part of life. To me, the flu was a bad cold. You got it and got to stay home from school or work. You got to stay in bed and have people bring you chicken soup. There was not a shot for the flu! But lo and behold, suddenly there was. And it was urgent that everyone get it.

It started to get annoying when this doctor friend bothered me about 2 or 3 more times over the next few months to get the flu shot. I was like, no way, I don’t need it. At this point, I was already pretty much against meds in general, unless really necessary. A few months later this particular doctor began to build his dream house down the block from us. Good for him. The pharmaceutical companies making those flu shots were a great sponsor! But, I and my family NEVER ever received the flu shot. And we hardly ever got the flu…hmmm.

This past spring, I found myself in a debate with a doctor, who told me straight to my face that by not taking the flu shot I could be responsible for killing the elderly. This idea of us being called "grandma killers" because we question medical trends or mandates is like being in a toxic relationship where the other person blames you for their problems and manipulates you to do things for them that are unhealthy for you. As a life coach I would say get out of that unhealthy relationship fast. Or at least set clear boundaries. If you are reading this and believe I'm being selfish, then you have been indoctrinated by one of the most unhealthy psychological manipulations of all time. 

2005: MY GREAT AWAKENING

My mother-in-law, also a free thinker and always open to holistic health and wellness, introduced me to the book "Natural Cures "They" Don't Want You To Know About" by Kevin Trudeau. This was the book that clinched everything for me and introduced me to the world of holistic wellness. Always looking for more information on how to lose weight and improve my health and well being, and after everything I'd been through, I devoured the book. It also was the first time I was exposed to information about the corruption of the big food and pharma industries, and that's when everything started clicking into place in my brain. Kevin Trudeau actually got in big trouble after he published his books. He was arrested for spreading false information, but if you read his book, you'll see that he talks about basic things like getting enough sleep, filtering your water, reducing exposure to electronics, lowering your stress, and eating organic produce. A lot of people think it's a new thing that we are being censored regarding keeping healthy and well in order to prevent dependency on doctors and drugs, but this has been going on for a long time. I highly recommend his book, and you can still get on Amazon!

2008: THE BACKPAIN

About 12 years ago, my husband started experiencing a “pins and needles” sensation in his arm which eventually led to excruciating back pain. I’m not going to get into the nitty gritty details, but suffice it to say, he was told, like so many others who experience unexplainable back pain, that he had several herniated discs and would need to have emergency surgery ASAP. 

UM…no.

We weren’t having it. I had already known several people who experienced a similar scenario and even after a grueling surgery still experienced pain and even worse complications. This was when we began exploring other, more “holistic” options to help my husband. By the way, besides for the doctors telling him he needed emergency surgery they also prescribed him with mega doses of one of the world’s most addictive opioids: Percacet. Lots and lots of fat pills of Percocet. Thank G-d they didn’t help him and he didn’t take them more than once or twice.

One day I was having coffee with a friend and shared with her what was going on, and she mentioned Dr. Sarno’s book on backpain. I was eager for any “out of the box” solution, so I went straight to Barnes and Noble and bought it. My husband read it, and he “got it.” We both did. This was so our vibe: Understanding that our brains are brilliant machines that would rather us feel and deal with physical pain than our emotional issues. And also, that contrary to what most doctors will tell you, herniated discs are in fact very common and not dangerous at all.

He started asking around and talking to people about Sarno, and we were told about a guy in Brooklyn who gave seminars on the Sarno method. We attended a few and ultimately, this was the path that led my husband to his healing. It wasn’t instant relief, like how western medicine hooks us, but once the brain accepts this new way of seeing things, it is the solution for almost every non-life threatening pain you will ever experience. The method was logical and consistent with what we were seeking: Healing and wellness for the long term without dependency on doctors and medications. 

For those of you who have been scared by doctors about your herniated discs, know this: The herniated discs ARE real, just not dangerous like many doctors say they are. My husband still has them, but lives with them without pain. 

2019: THE OB/GYN

Last year when I went for my annual check up and had blood work done, my ob/gyn, the only type of doctor I still maintain on a regular basis, told me my testosterone levels were low and tried to sell me a type of patch they embed…yes…EMBED into your lower back! I was shocked, because this was supposedly a more progressive doctor. I mean it was 2019 in Boca Raton, Florida! 

Thankfully, I got a second and third opinion on my bloodwork, and was told that my testosterone levels were in fact fine. I was actually a little estrogen dominant because of my age, but my hormones were basically good. Imagine if I would have trusted blindly and had hormones I didn’t need embedded in me??? Then what kind of medical problems would I have?