There is an implied blueprint for the first fifty years of life. Reach adulthood. Go to college or the military. Build the career. Get married. Have 2.5 children. Secure the house with the white picket fence in the suburbs. But the expectations get blurry in the second phase. The children move out, the job you once loved feels heavy, and the man you vowed to grow old with might have chosen a newer model car and a newer model woman.
And then, your body begins to change.
It’s more than just menopause; it’s a shift in the physics of being. The brain still processes at high speed, but the body cannot always keep the pace.
Last Wednesday started as a “Bali Blueprint” day: water aerobics in the sun and a gentle, whispering breeze. It was peaceful until I came inside to shower. I stepped into my deep, terrazzo-tile tub. It’s the romantic kind you see in the movies, with flowers floating on the surface.
I enter and exit this tub gracefully every single day. But on this day, as I exited, my foot didn’t clear the high rim. My body weight was already in motion to exit, and while my mind saw the error and sent orders to recalculate, it was too late. Without anything to brace, I came crashing down like a fallen Jenga tower.
As I lay eyeball to eyeball with the tile floor, I had to gather my naked wits. To my right sat the crumpled remnants of a towel bar I had tried to recruit in my descent. It was snatched from the wall, leaving only the screws to tell the story.
I did the “culturally acceptable” thing and tried to sleep it off, but no sleep was found. The pain was a barrage of assaults: a right-side ache in my hip, leg, arm, and shoulder, neck pain, and a dull headache on the left. By morning, I quickly got myself into someone’s doctor’s office. No broken bones, but a humbling diagnosis of whiplash, multiple muscle sprains, and contusions.
I followed the prescriptions until I felt “better,” and then I played a dangerous game. I continued the anti-inflammatory meds and muscle relaxers, but I stopped the Tramadol, spooked by opioid addiction stories and empowered by a false sense of recovery.
A full day later, when it was out of my system, the real pain kicked in.
The authentic pain, stripped of its mask.
It was a sombering realization… I couldn’t just bounce back like the young lady of my youth who could dance effortlessly for hours. I feel a certain sadness for her, upon realizing that she is not quite the same “Cool Auntie” that I remember, and also questioning if I celebrated her appropriately.
I am learning that on this side of the journey, there is a small, quiet void between the speed of the brain and the speed of the body.
If you’ve started noticing a glitch in the coordination between your mind and your movements, this is for you. We are in a different stage now, and it is okay. Your health, both physical and mental, is the only currency that matters. Without it, nothing else you do will have complete success.
For decades, you probably put everyone else and their needs ahead of your health. We cannot afford that any longer. This season is about YOU and the care of your temple. After all, we still have legacies to build and empires to maintain!
I took a step toward my version of Freedom today. What does Freedom look like for you?
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