Sometimes I see an older person in a café and imagine them as a little kid. And sometimes I see babies and am struck by how much they resemble someone really old. Does this happen to you?
The other day my friend Ginger was describing a recent evening with her 14-year-old niece — how one moment her niece would be all grown up, and the next she'd be giggling like a little kid, making the same face she's been making since she was 3.
There was such tenderness in how Ginger spoke. Such love and spaciousness and delight in all of her niece's niece-ness.
As I walked back to my car, I thought: What if I offered that same grace to myself in perimenopause?
Because what I am going through IS a full-on hormonal event, not unlike adolescence.
Puberty 2.0, perhaps?
Certainly by now, I contain multitudes: the silliness and wonder of childhood, intense moods and all the feels, the serious weight of adult responsibility, the wisdom of 58 years of hard-earned experience, and more and more glimpses of elderhood. Which, let's face it, we don't see much celebration for being modeled, especially not for women.
I can easily feel depressed about how undervalued older women are. I can also see how automatically I have internalized all the judgments. Understandable, since multimillion-dollar industries aimed at making women look forever young dominate ad space everywhere. And women constantly talk disparagingly about themselves, to each other.
But when I invite a sense of agency to accompany my anger, I am left with: How could I value and delight in my own dear 58-year-old self the way Ginger delights in her niece?
- Grace for new clumsiness?
- Patience for needing to go back into the house for something I forgot? Twice? Thrice?!
- Extricating my sense of worth from the fact that I'm wearing a larger pant size?
- Delighting in the new cat-eye frames holding my stronger prescription progressive lenses?
It's hard to tease apart how much of this is just mine and how much I've absorbed from a culture that actively undervalues women, especially in their older years.
Speaking of which, I recently came across a reel of an elephant herd being led to a new location by their oldest female. Not the youngest. Not the strongest. Not the largest male. Her: the oldest female. Apparently, this is not only not unusual — it's the norm.
It turns out that elephants, orcas, and human females share the biological reality of living many years past fertility. Elder elephant females serve as the memory of their herds — repositories of survival knowledge accumulated over decades. And female orcas can live 40+ years post-reproduction, guiding their pods, particularly when it comes to finding food.
What if we valued our human female elders the same way?
This here is me raising my tea mug to all my Puberty 2.0 sisters. 🍵 And to our dear elders — especially my women subscribers.
What about you?
Is there an ounce of grace you could extend toward something you usually judge yourself for?
Make it specific:
What's something you judge yourself for? How could you channel my friend Ginger for your own dear self?
If you want to share, I am here! Just hit reply. I love hearing from you.
xo Heidi
PS. One of the most powerful things my clients come away with from our work together is not just an understanding of how their nervous system works. Nor knowing what to do when they get triggered. Nor even getting triggered much less than they used to.
The thing that moves me most is their growing friendliness toward their very own selves. For example:
→ When they find a "no wonder" for something they used to judge themselves harshly for
→ When they feel safe enough to cry (after a lifetime of not wanting to appear weak, or worry anyone)
→ When they feel tenderness for their younger selves (after a lifetime of shame and self-criticism)
Because friendliness toward your own humanity is everything. (Also? It’s contagious.)
PPS. I also write over here on Substack — come find me there.