Ladies of a Certain Age ~ for those invisible powerful, dynamic, vital women

“Do you know about the beautiful broken Japanese pottery mended with gold?” a therapist friend of mine asked. “It is highly prized and very valuable. You know, it is like us, our brokenness makes us beautiful and strong. Only by being broken ourselves can we relate to others who are suffering.”

“That’s asinine!” My father would have exclaimed if he was still alive. (I am remembering him today, the 33d anniversary of his death from cancer, and the colorful words he used.)

Actually, dear old dad, I think all ladies-of-a-certain-age are striking pieces of kintsugi, the Japanese art of mending with gold.

How could we not be? We have all been broken by life at this age. We just don’t know the strength these ordeals have given us because in our society failures and hurts are viewed as shameful events. We try to keep them hidden. We don’t talk about them to anyone. But, those who do talk about their shattered lives help many people.

When I first watched Sean Buranahiran kintsugi talk in the YouTube presentation, “Be Proud of your Scars,” I was deeply moved, particularly by these statements:

They (Japanese) believe when something has suffered damage and has a history, it makes it more beautiful. And the same thing is true of human beings;

Everything that you’ve been through doesn’t make your life uglier – although it may seem that way when we’re going through it;

You are not broken beyond repair;

Nobody has a perfect life; and

Don’t be ashamed of what happened to you.

If I could re-title this video, I would call it “Be Proud of Your Wrinkles.”

I can only think of a handful of women who have had the proverbial perfect American lives: 1. Successful, handsome husband; 2. Big, beautiful house; 3. Superb hair and figure; 4. Doting adult children and grandchildren.

Their names escape me.

Lots of friends come to mind who have told me their lives have been not-so- good because of one or more of the following: Lost their job, husband lost his job, divorce, child died from overdose, suicide of a relative, mental illness, bankruptcy, diseases of all sorts, estranged siblings or children, incarceration, and shag carpeting (sorry, I just had to lighten this up, a little.)

Years ago, a friend gave me a plaque that read: “Friends double our joy and divide our grief.” It is so hard to talk about our life when it is not so good. I, for one, would rather eat toads than talk about “what’s bugging me.” However, my pain and anger always have a way of coming out. I’ve learned the hard way that there is something magical that happens to my woes when I share them with a trusted person.

I don’t know what it is about pain and suffering; but, it makes us stronger somehow.

A number of years ago, a co-worker called me and said, “I have to get out of here. Can you meet me for coffee?” When we got together, she told me the executive director was driving her crazy. “You know, Elizabeth, he has no understanding after all he has never had any real loss in his life. If he had, he would see things differently and respond with care and concern, instead of dictums.” My co-worker certainly knew about loss. A drunk driver killed one of her small children years before we had this conversation.

Recently another friend, who suddenly landed in the hospital, exclaimed, “I woke up and this smooth-faced nurse was telling me how I felt. I couldn’t believe it. How could she possibly know how I felt at age 76 when she did not have one wrinkle on her face? She was still a baby!”

If I could re-title Sean’s video, I would call it “Be Proud of Your Wrinkles.” In the presentation, I would have a lady-of-a-certain-age say, “The things that we’ve been through, that’s just like us painting the wrinkles gold turning something that could be ugly into something beautiful and inspiring.”

Copyright – Elizabeth J. Wheeler, August 6, 2019