Just Like Me

4 Aug 2010

Me, Mum and my sister 1987

Got up just before 6.30 this morning.

I could hear the garbage truck somewhere down the hill, its thump dump noise reminded me of our own full bin  needing to be taken out to the footpath to wait to be emptied.

I went out the back door and the softest rain, just a mist, was falling,
there was a little pre dawn light just beginning to show, 
though the sun wouldn't be up for half an hour or so.

The birds were twittering softly, very, very sweetly, not the raucous noise they make in Spring when life is getting very busy in birdland.

The air  felt soft like the misty rain and the smell and feel of the air took me back to the time when I used to go for an early morning run first as a teenager with Mum around the bush lined roads close to home and later to the City run I used to do in Melbourne around the Exhibition gardens, a young woman on her own for the first time. 

I took a deep breath in as I walked back to the house, and right then, at that moment, everything seemed just right, that I was where I should be, doing what I should be doing with my life ( and I don't just mean taking out the garbage bin). 
I had this sense of continuity perhaps, with my past, that I could make my life just how I wanted it to be, that I was still that same person, that young woman starting out on life, making a life of my own.

These years, these pre-menopausal and menopausal years, can be so confusing.
It is well named The Change.
Things that always so easily made you happy don't look the same anymore, don't feel the same, the face in the mirror looks different, you have become an older woman.
It has been a journey, often difficult, to find who I am, where I fit in, how I am to live.
You know what I mean.

Some days just flow, they are easy, and things feel OK, great even. 
Other days I feel like I am some one else, I don't look or feel like me.
I feel restless, disatsified with me.

But this morning, that warp speed jump back to young-woman-me and then speeding forward to middle-age-woman-me was a gift, a connection that I have been battling for.
I could see that girl skipping and marching through the years,
falling in love,
becoming a mother,
being a carer for a family,
a rock for a family, 
perhaps losing herself a little 
and then going through the dark woods that is the midlife still 
often skipping but sometimes dragging herself forward 
and then we settled back together, 
young me 
and middle age me
and her energy settled in me 
and I felt like me again. 
Just like me.

16 Responses to “Just Like Me”

  1. What a beautiful and honest post Jenny, and how good it must be to have that feeling of self, of who you are and who you are yet to become.

    cheers Kate

  2. Thank you Jenny for this beautiful post. I love the photo of your mum and sister with you, brings back memories of the 80's for me.

    This is exactly how I sometimes feel from the "change" that has started in my life. I am glad I am not alone.

    Your words are just right...

    Take care,


  3. so much passes and changes in life, you've described it so well.
    have a gentle day despite the rude awakening :)

  4. You put it in words so well. For me, menopause meant getting my head around being an older woman. People definitely see you differently after age 50 I think. Takes a bit of getting used to.

  5. This gave me Goosebumps. You hit the nail right on the head with such beautifully written prose.

  6. What a lovely reflection, from the heart. Ah, that picture brings back so many memories - especially those perms! I had one just like it. It's a lovely photo of you three.

    Thanks again - Joolz

  7. Wow, thank you.

    I too have these moments.
    When everything is right, as it should be.
    They seem to come more and more often as I get older.

    Breathe in, breathe out.

  8. I'm waiting to make that connection properly. It comes and goes and leaves me drifting, like so many of my friends in a 'what now' void that is cushioned by busyness. So glad to read your take on it today.

  9. Your prose sounds like poetry Jenny. I know that moment of connection, I have felt it myself but never expressed it.

  10. Great post, Jenny. Living in the moment. It's hard to do, and it seems life change, body change, role change pushes us to plan when really we should put planning on the shelf and simply be. It sounds like you have figured this out and received grace.

  11. I love this post. It made me a bit teary.


  12. This is such a lovely post, Jenny.
    Somedays when I look at myself as I am now, I wonder what happened to the young woman starting out in life. As you put it so well, we perhaps lose ourselves a little as we give to our families. Now I hope to have the time to find me again. It was good to read your words.

    I also had a perm back in the eighties, my hair was very like yours in the photo when I got married in 1988.

  13. Dearest Little Jenny Wren, loved this beautiful post (which I enjoyed reading the day you posted it) *and* the photo of you and your mum and sis--so lovely (don't ever lose it). Just a quick note, here for now. I've been back a bit (still mostly) gone a while from the computer for a few weeks now, but have been snugged in catching up with you as time has allowed. I wrote you a long-ish (private)letter of hello to send through your email option on your blog, *but*it wouldn't take it (rejected me and shouted *error*! The nerve!). I called Rosie over to *help* me, and in the end--she was no help, and your bloggy email *ate* it (the aforementioned, *long-ish private letter* :o)! So, back with a little hello for now. I've missed you, dear friend. Sending much love, Jewels

  14. Howdy Stranger,what a surprise that would have been to have found a Jewels' epistle in the inbox.

    lots of love
    Jenny JAM

  15. I loved this. I'm only 31 with still a young face, but I know this will be me. I like learning from ladies who are one step ahead.


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