I’ve realized that it’s been quite some time between blogs. The past three months have been delightfully lived away from my writing. A place where I’m emerging from no longer exactly who I was. Yet still moving toward the person I will be. I’m in that place of the ‘in between’ or as Breathe editor Madison White describes in her reflection on change, the space of liminality. It’s a space of ambiguity and disorientation that we experience in the midst of a transition.

‘Instead of longing for the stability of what’s regular, embrace this journey as vital to your transformation, a call of the wild urging you to reflect, to pause and to be present’.

This life pause has been a time of both doing and being. Yet it’s the type of doing that is no longer the busy striving of my younger years. It comes from a place of deepening my authenticity and immersing myself into life around me and my connection with others.

The natural nurturer in me needed a new expression.

I’m embracing a new ‘job’ title. I’m a community elder. Not the stereotypical woman who is often portrayed as becoming invisible in society. Instead, I’m increasingly claiming being front and centre in the wisdom holding space. It comes from the acquired resources and time I have available to observe and listen more to the stories of others.

The young mothers who bring their babies and toddlers to a play session. The family who has moved recently to our area without additional family support. With these roles I am now becoming part of their extended created ‘village’. A multigenerational link in their lives. A support person as they adjust to changes in their lives.

The older women who are sharing their life experiences. Looking for other women to find connection and friendship with. Relieved to find someone who can be a listening ear when they feel overwhelmed by life. A person who recognises their distress yet creates space rather than solutions.

Over the years of writing ‘Healing the Matriarch’ my energy has been around emerging to find my identity after having my family. Now they are grown into amazing adults and have children of their own. The eldest grandchild is in her first year of university studying nursing and the youngest is thriving as a kindergarten student at his primary school. I’m no longer needed in the hands-on way required in the years before school. Now it’s a more distant relationship over WhatsApp chats and the occasional catch ups in person.

The Power of the Pause

Brad Stulberg in his book ‘Master of Change’ identifies the pause required whenever we experience unexpected change. The body is most likely in reaction mode. Bodily sensations and thoughts creating a sympathetic nervous system response of fight, flight, freeze or fawn. It’s definitely not the space to inhabit to make major life decisions.

Even when life situations are expected our reactions can take us by surprise.

One of the first things to do as you pause is to take time to notice the thoughts and feelings that are present. Then it’s powerful to name the emotions that arise and their influence on the body. For example, ‘I feel a tightness in the chest when I can’t express myself’, ‘I notice my palms are sweaty when I’m tense and uncomfortable’, ‘I feel a welling up behind my eyes when I just want to cry but won’t allow myself’.

‘By labelling these emotions, you separate yourself from them; you come to know what you are experiencing instead of simply experiencing it’.

There is so much value in responding rather than reacting to change. It’s difficult and takes time to adjust to the disorder of what we once knew. It also requires us to be flexible with our sense of self as we won’t go back to the way things were. Our only course of action is forward toward something new.

The pause is powerful. It allows our tend and befriend parasympathetic nervous system to kick in. Making it easier to give ourselves self-compassion and kindness, and to be in a good headspace to plan our way forward. The pause also allows for an excitement to build. To imagine our next step and have clearer responses to what we want from our future.

I’ve really enjoyed living in one of life’s pauses over the past few months. Less rushed, more deliberate and bringing with it clarity of direction. The natural nurturer in me is finding her way. She’s extended the people who are the recipients of that nurturance.

Life will always bring change and challenges so the more confident we are at navigating what arises, the more strategies we have for handling them. Consider life a journey, yet don’t forget you are allowed to pause along the way.

My husband and I have been married for over forty years. Our wedding took place close to sunset in a small country town church. We were both in our early twenties and had been together for nearly two years. Common sporting pursuits sparked our interest in each other and we quickly developed a close bond.

It was a difficult early courtship as my mother was in the last stages of her journey with bowel cancer. Her death several months after we met thrust us into a quick trajectory between our first meeting, engagement and then preparing to marry. It was exciting to plan our wedding day. Choosing the church, reception venue, bridal party, invitations and guest list. It was not until my wedding day that it really sank in for me that this was the first of many significant events in my life that I would experience without my mum by my side.

Photo by Stacie Ong on Unsplash

I distinctly remember as I dressed ready for the ceremony that a group of my family matriarchs converged around our kitchen table. Drinking, eating and chatting together. Aunts from both my mother’s and father’s side. I imagine they knew the void that would exist for both myself, my dad and my sister on my wedding day without her presence. Photos were taken, wedding rings exchanged, vows spoken and our married life commenced.

Although the beginning of our relationship was quite unique, I imagine it echoes the stories of all who marry. The wedding rings fit on young slender fingers and the vows are made to commit to a life together and the possibility of raising children as a family unit.

For those in long term marriages, we know that the wedding day heralds only the entry point, the first chapter of life together as a couple. The people we are on that day will continually change. Slowly blending our life experience as a unit and also coming from our own unique personality and perspectives.

Things will be brought up in conversation, often expectations we hold of each other which were formed from our childhood family experiences. Conflicts of interest will emerge. Boundaries will be crossed. Disagreements about how things should be done will occasionally surface. The one thing that sticks is the commitment to each other that was made on our wedding day and the rings we exchanged.

‘Your marriage vows are most important in those moments when they are most difficult to keep’

– Dave Willis

Life gets busier and it becomes difficult to keep each other a priority. Children, household duties and work responsibilities fill our schedules. The rings stay on as a reminder, until one day they are taken off. At first, its an excuse that they get in the way. They become a safety issue. Our fingers swell or knuckles enlarge making them harder to wear comfortably. Once we become used to their absence on our finger there is a psychological freedom that emerges. The symbol of marriage and commitment to each other is no longer a constant visual reminder.

Until it’s absence is. We see each other’s naked wedding ring finger and wonder what that symbolizes. Do we still love each other? Are we still exclusively committed to each other? What does it say about the ongoing state of our marriage.

Changes in our own lives often mirror the way we feel about our marriage. The early days of marriage we sense an assuredness that we are loved and chosen. As each stage of our life emerges new challenges arise. It is often at the crucial stages of our adult life – when children arrive, when children empty the nest, when we face health challenges and aging of our parents and ourselves that the real tests of our commitment to each other occur.

There is an upward trend in separation and divorce of couples in their 50’s. It’s usually a time when commitments reduce, the pace of life slows and spouses examine their life as both individuals and as part of a couple. Active motherhood and careers taper off and plans for retirement begin to form. Important decisions about whether to ‘right size’ for the next phase of life surface. Each change challenges our stability.

It’s a critical point in a marriage. For us it became a two year separation. Interestingly enough about the same length as our courtship. What we wanted out of life was too different to accommodate each other’s needs. It was difficult, yet in hindsight essential to what happened next for us as a couple. The possibility of reuniting as changed individuals. Both happier, both finding our individual purpose and ready to move forward together again.

Recently I looked at those wedding rings. The ones that no longer fit me. Symbols of the constriction I had felt at the time we separated. I began to look at how to embody the new stage of our marriage with a physical remodelling of the rings. On a recent trip I purchased a pearl that would be it’s centre piece. Two diamonds from the eternity ring were to remain in the design. The gold was melted and reshaped from each ring and combined into a new wedding band to house the design.

This new ring, which embodies elements and stories from our life together, symbolizes our recommitment to each other. To continue our marriage together, now with a stronger partnership and closer connection to our children and grandchildren.

As I look at young couples preparing for marriage I wonder if they have a sense of what is in store for them. To understand what it’s like to take wedding vows and to implement them in a practical way in their marriage. To exchange rings as symbols of their bond and love. To make a life commitment to each other.

With this ring, I am much older and wiser than the young version of myself when she married. This refashioned ring is a symbol of my life together with my husband, all that we have shared, the heartaches we have experienced and the ways we have supported each other. It is also a strong symbol of who I am as a woman and the personal life journey I have been on.