Dear Blog Family

Dear Blog Family,

With conflicted feelings whirling around us, we have come to the difficult decision to stop our regular blogging on The Middle Ages. We need you all to know that we did not in any way, shape, or form come to this lightly. In fact, we spent many hours talking back and forth, considering our options.

This is not a sad day for us, except that we will miss your voices, your stories, your support. We in no way regret one single second of this 3-year journey; it has quite literally changed our lives. It has changed us as people, and as writers. And it is as writers that we leave you today and move to other writing projects that have been in our hearts, waiting for their day.

As you can imagine, we have poured so much time into The Middle Ages, and with our personal commitments—especially of late—also taking much time, it has left little for each of us to write our … Great Canadian Novel (or fill in the blank). We find ourselves curious as to what will happen if all the energy that has been directed here over these years now gets directed elsewhere. As we said in the blog the other day, “What. Is. Next?” And we just know the same will be true for you when all the kind and loving energy you amazing readers have directed here goes to the next wonderful thing.

We are very happy to have learned so much from each and every one of you. We have shared joy and deep sorrows, compassion and strength. We have together supported each other in grief, and held each other high on shoulders of celebration. We have joined each other for holidays, and we have gotten to know your serious sides and your silly sides in Five Crazy Things. The one thing that kept blocking us from making this choice was … you. But we know we are all the better for knowing each other, and that each of us has taught and learned at least one great life lesson. 

We would love the next week to be about you, if you want to say goodbye, if you want to connect with each other, and if there are any questions you always wanted to ask, now’s your chance. Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, we won’t post anything new, but will answer your comments here. Then we’ll finish up this week with a Blogging Out Loud on Friday. After that, the blog will stay up. We’re leaving it up because, down the line, if we have any big announcements to make or things we want to share with you in a new post, we can (if you want, you can subscribe on the left-hand bar to get any updates). But we also feel the community that has grown here and the stuff we’ve talked about deserves to be here for any of us who might want to revisit conversations (you can easily search in the left-hand bar for key words, and Blogger will find the pertinent stories for you). Colin can also keep you posted of any of our news through Twitter, and we will keep our Twitter feed live (although probably won’t be there a lot for the next while). Just so you know, after two weeks, Blogger won’t take comments without moderation, but since we won’t be moderating, we hate to have you think we’re ignoring you. You can comment if you want, but just so you know, we might not see it (we don’t get updates) or be able to post it for a while.

Please know, beyond everything we’ve said, that we are excited about the future and about moving forward. And we look forward to this next week with all of you.

Thank you so much and with so much love, Deb and Barbara

Change Is Good.

Deb: We grow from change, I think. I should know as the change surrounding me in my life right now is swirling and whirling and sweeping. Yep. Right across the board, I am feeling these changes. Some of them are wonderful, some are sad, and some are bittersweet. But they all have one thing in common. They are forward-moving. They are taking me to a new place. They have me re-examining and re-thinking. They have sparked me and challenged me and opened me up to a world of new ways of looking and interacting with my world and the world at large.

So I think I am about to be creative in a way I never have been before. At what, you might ask? I don’t know. But I am sooooo open and things are coming to me. I think I am bringing it in, drawing it towards me. I am sure that I am about to find some new and exciting things to fill my head and my heart and my time. Not all the changes are what I would have wished for, but they are also changes I cannot control. So my only choice is to find the joy in them and accept the challenge of making things better. My Dad always says, “Damn, I zigged when I should have zagged.” So I’m going to zig and zag and travel down some new roads. I feel some big lovely changes coming for me, but I am happy to wait for them to arrive. Because I am enjoying the anticipation. What’s next, I wonder?

What. Is. Next?

Barbara: As you well know, dear Deb, but as our readers might not, I feel EXACTLY they same way right now. It’s strange, I was always the woman with the script—this was going to happen, then that. If I worked hard and worked toward my goal(s), then that would happen and so would this, this and this. It was very comforting to have a plan. It worked with my character and with my ideas. But this is the first time I’ve ever thrown the script out—and understood that I have to—in order to move into the next phase, whatever that will be. Now, don’t get me wrong, I still have goals and dreams and projects, and I still believe that these are useful and interesting to have, but I’m not dictating in my mind the step-by-step process that (I imagine) will bring them to fruition. Instead, I am going through a process of renewal, one where I am open to anything. Still in the cocoon, mind you, but excited to be here. I, too, wonder what will happen next. Wonder is a glorious thing, isn’t it?

My Little Meno Pause

Barbara: Today I don’t have an in-depth issue I need to get off my chest, I don’t have an idea or a rant or a plea or a story for you. I just have my own little real-life experience and I want to share it with you. Mostly in the hopes that you will share your stories with me, or that in sharing our stories we’ll help our younger generation see that it ain’t so weird or scary or verboten to talk about this.

If you’re wondering why I use the adjective “little” in the same vicinity as “meno” (because how can a “meno”-anything be “little”??? Menopause means another life-changer, another milestone, another major turning point, right?). Well, I’ll tell you why. Right now at this moment, it feels little. It feels subtle and gentle and mostly like an unassuming thing behind me, politely tapping my shoulder to let me know it might be barreling by in a moment.

Okay, so here’s the scoop. I am 48 and I just missed my first period. Or rather it was 10 days late. Now I am totally accustomed to a short, robust cycle: every 25 days, announced with potent PMS (a foggy, vulnerable fatigue in my case), in and out with reliable predictability. To wait 10 days for it was a bit disconcerting. The 2 periods before that—while right on schedule—were milder forms of my usual. I feel … okay. By that I mean, I feel fine, but not as light and easygoing as I am used to. But that could be any number of things. That said, I am actually going through a really nice time right now, with my beloved daughters both home, with some very exciting work prospects developing steam, and with my sense of worth feeling pretty stable. For all intents and purposes, I should be feeling GREAT. But … but … to be honest, there’s this strange pervasive … melancholy? No … restlessness. Or … uncertainty. I don’t know if there’s a connection here, but I thought in fairness I should throw that truth into the pot and mix it around. I’m not scheduled for my regular doctor’s checkup for a couple of weeks. So what do I do in the meantime? I turn to you guys, of course!!

I have 2 massive “women and their bodies” type books sitting on my bedside table. But who has time right now to read a 600 page TOME? I just want a short and sweet discussion of what your own experiences have been like when you approached this stage of your lives (or when someone you love did). Is this a slow change? Or will it happen so fast I won’t know what hit me? Please, any words of wisdom, wile or comedy would be greatly appreciated!

Deb: Oh where to begin? You know my mind raced when I got this email. What do I tell her? How do I support her? And then I thought, you know it is soooooooooooooo individual, so different for each woman. But I will say this—my menopause was not good and not easy, but it was very fast—two intense years. Yes, I was sure I was losing my mind. Still. Yes, I was sure I was losing my mind.  And so I owned it and I worked it. But now, even wayyyyyy before now, it was a distant memory. I am available, my darling friend, for private coaching. Not only available, but sitting and awaiting your call. So let’s do it. In the meantime: “it’s not your fault, it’s not your fault, it’s not your fault, it’s not your....”

And The Last Prom

Barbara: It was way sweeter than I thought. In that I expected it to be bittersweet—our last child at her prom on the threshold of leaving home for college. But it wasn’t; it was sweet sweet SWEET!

The set-up had all the requisite drama: her years at the school had been up and down, as they are for most kids. But she is MY kid and her drama was confounding at times: she was at a brilliant arts high school, renowned across the country, not just learning the fundamentals, but acting, making films (and such films), and doing photography (what photos). I’ll let you fill in the blanks, but let’s just say there was a lot of second-guessing. Not all the time, of course, but enough of it to make her wonder often and loudly if she shouldn’t just go to another school to “start over”. The inevitable teenagers go-to. The start-life crisis, as it were. But she stayed. And, boy, are we glad she did.

Compared to this, the other drama is a bit more mundane, but it speaks volumes too. Our fashion designer daughter offered to design and make her dress. This was a huge coup for all of us: Michele got to wear an original dress that included all the elements she most wanted, Stefanie had an excuse to design another dress, and we got to enjoy our daughter in all her pretty glory (she was all set to go in a suit because she looks awesome in a suit and loves to be comfortable—and we supported her decision, but were a bit disappointed, as un-hip as that is to admit.) But the construction of this dress had its own dramas: a failed attempt to change up the bodice design, a ton of hand sewing as lace appliqués were stitched to the back and upper front corners (hard to see, but they’re there), and a few discussions (arguments?) as to the best length. There was even a night when Stefanie almost gave up completely––I’m gonna say on the dress, but I think it was dramatic enough that she might have meant her whole career choice. But, again, tenacity paid off. Stefanie remains a fashion design student, the dress turned out beautifully, and Michele felt––and looked––wonderful.

So when the big night finally came, I surprised myself with my own unabashed happiness. There were no tears, no melancholy, and relatively little nostalgia. It was its own wonderful affair, from the girls getting ready at our place before, to two lovely pre-prom parties, to saying good-night as they all got on the bus that took them to the prom venue, to opening the house for many of them to come back here after the prom and finish their festivities until the sun rose and they all crashed on every soft surface of the house (okay, one unfortunate boy found himself on the hard tile floor of our basement). They were beautiful, polite, well-behaved and still had lots of celebratory fun. The next day, I made them breakfast (at lunch time) and no sooner had they finished their last bites out on our patio when the formerly clear sky opened up and rain CASCADED down. They decided this meant it was time to shower: they stood under the torrents and got washed clean.

In the end, all of us just felt … happy. It was a great end, yes, but it feels like we’re already segueing seamlessly to the new beginning.

Deb: Isn’t it wonderful when life surprises you? I am so glad for Michele and for you and Phil that it was sweet and happy and sans throat lumps. You are right. It is a taste of what is to come. And make no mistake, you will likely not say goodbye to her in the fall without tears, but those tears will dry into a new form of life for you and she. The painful wrenching away will become a series of joyful reunions and your life will just slowly and gently start to turn into something new. I love the adult children. The children we can truly be friends with and be ourselves around and confide in and converse with. I’m glad the prom didn’t sting. It was meant to be a sweeter than honey moment and luckily for you, it was.