My Personal Journey

The velvet-lined rut

I’ll start with a disclaimer. I am a privileged Silicon Valley executive with no grounded reason to complain. I have my home, my family (our adult kids came home) and a living that creates a comfortable lifestyle. So don’t feel sorry for me.

But here I am, in the middle of a global pandemic, back in lockdown in a state where the infection numbers are going in the wrong direction, turning sixty today. Wow – that’s a big number. I’m not afraid of it, but as I look back on the lives I have led, and look forward to the lives I still plan to lead, I cannot believe I find myself living a life which, while comfortable, is a velvet lined rut where I can’t see over the edges to the track and the fields and the horizon beyond. And which is not the life I chose.

I have always traveled since becoming a working adult. I’ve been all over the world, as have most tech execs, meeting people, learning, stretching my mind on technology and culture. I’ve always traveled for fun too. Back to Europe at least once a year, even when the kids were little. Dragging the family to Asia, to Europe, to Central America, to the Middle East, to Italy and France over and over, reveling in the art, food, history and excitement of the new experience.

Travel is a choice. Some people never have the choice because of their work but many office professionals do. There comes a point in a career where you choose whether to concentrate your career near home, or not. Some people don’t want to be on a plane every week. They prefer the stability and security of being home every night and choose a career path accordingly. But I never chose to be domesticated the way I have to be now.

I thrived on the variety and stimulus that comes with a mobile lifestyle. Visiting customers, factories, conferences and international colleagues. For some, like me, the movement became the purpose. The lack of repetition, the continuous joy of moving from place to place and experience to experience. The visual stimulus of art; the palate stimulus of food; the ability to wander free, accountable to no-one in the moment. Human beings are, at their core, nomadic and with me that desire is right at the surface.

So lockdown is a challenge. A maturing opportunity – at sixty – to grow up maybe? To stop searching and stay in once place? At fifty I wrote that I recognized the loss and challenges of aging, “Clearly only a healthy dose of humor and self-depreciation is going to get me through this.” At fifty five I retired to sit on boards and travel. At sixty aging has now taken over my body so I can’t worry about that any more – so I serve on a number of boards, 100% on zoom, but no travel! Unthinkable. Especially when I now know we (office workers) can work from anywhere. The lockdown proved that if nothing else. I could do my job from Italy as easily as my living room, if they’d only let me in.

This pandemic is a dramatic loss of freedom for everyone. But life is now distilled down to its essence – the pure spirit. There is no room for frivolity, no room for superficiality in the face of so much tragedy and restriction of movement. My only choice is to learn to appreciate the velvet in my rut and cherish the time – not knowing how long it will be.

Photo: Pompeii © 2011 Penny Herscher

My Personal Journey

On turning Fifty Five – Am I halfway there yet?

Turning 50 five years ago seemed like a big deal at the time. When I wrote the post Fifty is Just a Number Isn’t It?  in July 2010 I was musing on the minefield that the fifties looked like to me, and the challenges of aging, without having a clue what was actually going to happen and what it was going to feel like.

Now, turning 55, navigating my way through the minefield, I find myself wondering if I am halfway there – and if so halfway to what?

Maybe it’s halfway to 40 from 50. After all, the internet tells me “60 is the new 40”. Life expectancy is going up, we’re healthier than we have ever been, and so why should you not be running your first marathon at 60? Retirement age is going up and so there is no reason not to enjoy working until your late 60s now.

It’s more than halfway to the end, I think. When I plug my age and habits in to various life expectancy tools like Deadline and Living to 100 the answer always comes out the same… 92. So in that case I’m 59% of the way there, just a little more than half way. And of course these tools all tell me the same thing. Reduce stress, exercise more, and drink less. Hah!

Maybe it’s halfway to acceptance. Accepting the death of my loved ones. No, I don’t think I’ll ever accept that. Accepting the tragedy of a loved one who wants to die, but she has Alzheimers and keeps on living and is miserable. Managing the strain that puts on my husband and our marriage. Definitely striving for acceptance on that one and gradually getting there.

I hope it’s halfway through my marriage. If the online tools (which are worth what I paid for them which was zero) are right and I live to 92 I will be married for 70 years (since Bret is an athlete I believe he will live longer than me). We’ve been married 33 years so we are not even halfway! Of course he may think about that and say “yikes, time for a new wife!” but here’s hoping not. We’ve built a happy life together and while we are as different as chalk and cheese it works and we love each other.

It’s all the way to having adult children. Wow, what a joy that is! Charming, lovely adults who are delightful to be around and finally do dishes and cook. Hopefully it’s still a way to grandchildren though! I hope we’re waiting another 10 years for that pleasure.

I’m always halfway to being the perfect weight and physical fitness. I suspect that is a road I’ll travel forever. Although I do get fitter every year because every year I care more about being healthy.

And it’s definitely halfway to true friendship. My friendships have gone through stages of pleasure, competition, shared challenges (little kids, work), craziness (going to extremes to escape) but, at 55, they are moving into a phase of deep trust. Time has taught me that I have a very few real friends, but they are marvelous. They are accepting, supportive, and joyful even at the worst of times. They just get better with age.

And I’m grateful for all of it. Every day above the dirt is a good day.

This year’s milestone celebration:
a dinner party in our garden with friends, wine and fabulous food!