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

Entering a charming Mission-style furnished home set amongst an idyllic setting of mountains and blooming fruit trees, I heard my friend say, “Filling your bucket?” My brain screamed, What? I thought we were talking about the bucket list section in my new book. Filling your bucket is a phrase I haven’t thought about in a long time. (“Paths – A Primer for Ladies-of-a-Certain-Age, a Workbook for the Road Ahead” is due out next month on Amazon or www.ladiesofacertainage.com.)

Maybe it was the tranquil and restful setting that elicited an unknown sentiment, or – perhaps – a Freudian slip, but my friend’s words struck me at my core for some strange reason.

When I got home, I barely had enough energy to feed my dog and cat and get dinner for me, which I barely ate.   What is going on here? Am I sick? Is this another reaction to the vaccine I had several weeks ago?

I got on my pajamas, climbed into my bed, and fell into a deep sleep.

The following day I didn’t feel much better. 

Bits and pieces of recent conversations with friends evaded my thoughts. “I’m having a tough time getting back into things after staying home so much,” I heard one friend say.  Words from my very athletic 78-year-old neighbor, a star tennis player earlier in life, now a devoted pickleball player, came to me, “I want to go back to the pickleball courts, but I’m going to ease into it slow and easy.” I heard again a very outgoing friend’s words, “I’m so glad I am vaccinated. But, I don’t have much energy to do stuff like I used to.”   A new friend, a writer of some repute, told me over coffee, “I feel so scattered.  I thought I wanted to begin writing historical fiction, but now I am not sure.  Also, I don’t know if I should start writing my blog again. “

Their words kept going round and round in my head: I’m having a really hard time getting back into things  — I’m going to ease into it slow and easy — I just don’t have much energy to do stuff like I used to — I feel so scattered.

I began to feel discombobulated and a little ill. “Come on, Bonnie,” I said to my dog. Let’s go back to bed for a while.” 

I swear my faithful friend looked at me with her big brown eyes full of genuine concern.  She seemed to say, “Are you nuts? You never go back to bed, and it’s time to take me on our walk!”

About 30 minutes later, I got up, let Bonnie outside, and made myself another cup of coffee.  Sitting down at my kitchen table, I took a slow sip of this great brew and looked out my window.  Yes, spring has arrived! Tulips are starting to bloom, and the birds are singing a symphony. What’s going on, Elizabeth? This is your favorite time of year!

Like my friends, I was going through the transition phase of withdrawalfrom isolation because of Covid to the awkward unsure phase of re-entry into my previous way of life.  I did not like being isolated. I like being around people.  Not knowing much about a world where vaccination rates are rising amongst my peers and the dire news I heard about the disease added to my apprehension. It felt like the weeks after 9/11 when once again, I could listen to planes fly.  Yep, that’s it, Elizabeth. Like your friends, you are drained and need to fill up your bucket. You need to take it slow and easy and do soothing fulfilling activities. But, there seems to be more.  It’s not like you to be so tired and bordering on being sick.

I went into my bedroom to get dressed. My nearly unpacked suitcase and piles of clothes were on the floor. They had been there for several days, ever since I had gotten home from finally being able to visit my family on Colorado’s Front Range, a distance of over 250 miles from my house on the western slope. It wasn’t like me not to unpack and have clothes scattered all over the floor.  It was so good to see my children, grandchildren and cousin.  I forgot how rowdy teenagers could be. My heart went out to their frazzled mothers, my middle-aged daughters, and the noise and busyness of a big metropolitan area still boomed in my brain. 

Oh, Sweetie, not only is your bucket drained, but you have a hole in it! All this Covid crap, family disquiet, and – may I add – too much work between taking care of a house, writing, spring yard work, and nursing your beloved dog whose health is failing. 

Yes, my drained bucket had a hole in it. No wonder I got confused about bucket lists.  I didn’t even have the energy to take care of my day, let alone plan for the future.

Have you ever felt like any of this, dear reader? (I think it might be a national epidemic!) What are you doing to fill up your bucket? Please share! 

I’m feeling better.  Here are the steps I took.

1. I hopped into bed and corralled a cuddly cat for a catnap!

2.  When I got up, I unpacked, put away my suitcase and filled the hamper with the dirty clothes.

3. Bonnie Buttercup, soon to be 12-years-old and I went for a walk. I noticed all the spring flowers.

4. I decided to take a break from writing for a couple of days.

5. For a whole day, not once did I turn on my computer and forbade myself from checking e-mail on my phone.

6.  I did restorative yoga, including that beneficial pose, legs-up-the-wall.  (Actually, I think I dozed off)

7.  I baked my favorite Trader Joe’s dinner, which I brought back with me from my visit to the big city.

8. I went to bed early.

Copyright – Elizabeth J. Wheeler, April 13, 2021