S.O.S part 2
Midwifing midlife
On a sunny Saturday in Boston this past fall, I cried before I could even answer my friend Marnie’s question — the simplest question — as we sat across from each other for the first time in years.
We just happened to be in the same city at the same time. Unplanned soul connections are the best, I tell you!
While we waited for the burrata pizza to arrive, Marnie looked straight at me, steady and familiar — I know those big beautiful eyes well — asked in the most genuine tone:
“How are you, Kit?”
Before I go on, you need to know this about Marnie. She is not an ordinary friend.
She was my first American friend — the one who said yes to sharing a room with a 13 year old girl from the Far East with limited English. She only had a few days’ notice, that she would have to sacrifice her own dorm space as a high school freshman.
And yet, she said yes to having me as her roommate.
Marnie’s the friend who taught me how to use a tampon (“Yes, Kit, there’s a hole down there, I promise”). She showed me what a wholesome New England family home looks and feels like — claw-foot tub, Christmas tree farm, popcorn for dinner — the whole scene. She witnessed my first crush, first heartbreak and a few thereafter.
She introduced me to dance as an art form, to letter writing in the summer as an intimate way to stay connected especially when you wax seal the envelope, and she somehow made reading classics like Jane Eyre and Emma feel like a cool teenager thing to do.
In other words: Marnie knows me. Has always seen me. Even after decades of living on different coasts without much contact, I’m pretty sure she still knows the core of me. After all, there’s still a 13 year old Kit in there!
So of course she could read my face before I said a word. She waited to hear my response patiently while I gathered myself.
When I finally spoke, it all came tumbling out. I shared about how this year has been… a lot. How empty nesting is finally becoming an accepted reality (maybe). How menopause in full bloom, day and night. How there’s a doctorate degree in progress. How I turned fifty after completing the list. How I am grateful for everything AND grieving a lot of things, AND questioning it all. All at once.
“I might be working on a doctorate, but I am really writing a PhD dissertation,” I summarized my mini novella.
“Oh, Kit. That IS a lot. Tell me more,” she said, almost giddy, as she separated a piece of pizza from the pie, handing one to me and keeping one for herself.
So I did.
And so did she.
We spent a couple of hours listening, seeing, and holding space for each other. We laughed. We cried. We reminisced the past and projected the future. It was the most therapeutic act of love and connection I had felt in a long time.
There’s a kind of magic that happens when someone understands you from the inside out, because they’ve been there, too.
Marnie was midwifing my midlife in that moment.
Have you had those moments — when your nervous system finally relaxes, your soul softens, and your guard drops because you feel safe and seen, held and loved?
That’s the kind of SOS every woman in midlife needs and deserves.
Are you living a chapter that could benefit from this kind of support — and more?
More nervous system regulation.
More tools to stay grounded in the midst of chaos.
More mind-body-soul medicine your whole system is longing for.
If so, stay tuned for SOS, Part 3.
Until then, know this: ‘
You are seen, loved, and held from here.
With gratitude,
xoxo
Kit