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 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!