Esther McCarthy: Why midlife is magnificent — brain fog, freedom and the power of no

From brain fog to bold boundaries, midlife brings unexpected freedoms, fierce friendships and a liberating sense of self

The joy of being midlife: Invisibility, confidence and saying no

THE youngies today have some funny words for things.

“Not gonna lie bro, you’re glazing yourself hard RN.” 

Translation: To tell you the truth, oh friend of mine, you are being rather boastful at this particular moment in time.

“It’s giving… mothers be cray cray.” 

Translation: This situation evokes the aesthetic of a woman who has recently searched ‘is perimenopause a reasonable defence for murder in a court of law?’

A word they use a lot is “mid”. Meaning average. Meh . Only OK. As in, that movie was mid. The vibe at the party was mid.

And every time I hear it, I think, but I am mid. Midlife. And, you know what? Mid is magnificent.

Sure, there are some drawbacks. My face is starting to resemble an elephant’s arse and my arse is starting to resemble an elephant’s ear. Say what you want about Mother Nature, but the lady likes her symmetry.

But being midlife has many positives. It’s all just a matter of how you spin it.

1. Brain fog

We got a new (second-hand) car recently, and I parked it in the big car park in Little Island, and toddled away to buy some new sheets and duvets, a plant pot, and a laundry basket in a light colour that I will insist only belongs to me so maybe I can do a wash devoid of jocks, because that’s the kind of crazy rock n’ roll life I lead. 

I cleverly used the laundry basket to carry all the other bits out to the car park. Then I walked around bewildered because if you’d paid me a million quid, I couldn’t have picked my car out of the literal lineup. I know it’s black.. ish.

Sugar, is it? Maybe it’s grey? I think I find it, but then spot a booster seat. Shudder. I do the bipbip thing with the keys, holding them out, like a divining rod. A car’s side lights lit up.

That couldn’t be my car, could it? It looks really nice. I check the reg, and then realise I don’t know the reg, even though I’ve written it into lots of forms recently. This is a 171 though.., surely that’s too new to be my car? Ooh, there are my colouredy shopping bags in the boot, it IS my car. Check me out with the fancy wheels.

I feel all turned around. Imagine if you were in a room full of strangers, no one looks familar, but then you spot someone flirting with your husband. “Oh! That’s my one!” you think, delighted and mildly suspicious. You see them in a different light. 

Sure, there’s high mileage, but it actually looks quite good, objectively. Yes, I was furious with it last week when the clutch went, but the gears still work, it’s got a good boot for its age, and the horn is there on the odd occasion when you need it.

But brain fog isn’t just a decline. I’m deciding to figure it’s like it’s selective memory, or giving me a fresh take on things. Plus, the bus is pretty reliable these days.

2. Becoming invisible to men

Hahaha! This is a dream come true for most women. No more worrying if a creep is going to sit next to you on a bus. Oh no, travelling in peace without having to cross our arms and our legs and stare out the window in feigned nonchalance. Disaster!

And no more mystery appendages pressing into our lower backs in a queue in SuperValu. We’ll live without it. Invisibility is a superpower. I don’t want to fly or read minds. I just want to browse the reduced price section in peace without getting mansplained about the difference between Best Before and Use By dates.

It means a freedom of a kind. It means taking up space and eating the lemon drizzle cake, and channelling your inner Catherine Tate’s Lauren Cooper. WE AIN’T BOVVERED.

3. The power of no

We must practice saying no to lifts, extra jobs, no to people who drain us. Radiators only, please! 

And if an invitation contains the words ‘smart casual’, I’m out. I don’t want my outfit to be cleverer than me. 

Somethings we should say yes to, like the one drink on a Friday night.

4. Female friendships

Ah, where would we be without the covens? The kindness, the support, the craic, the sharing of information and which pharmacy is stocking the good HRT patch, the one that doesn’t give you a rash. There is very little a group of mid-life women can’t sort out. 

But jeepers, the peer pressure these days. It’s not just teenagers who are being influenced. It used to be about drugs and cider and fags. Now we’re being pressurised into protein and ashwagandha supplements, pumpkin seeds, vaginal moisturisers, and weight training. Give it a rest, Instagram. 

We used to sneak vodka into fields. Now we sneak Vagifem pessaries into our makeup bags for our weekends away.

In some circles, mid may mean average. But I say, mid is marinated, baby. Mid is seasoned. Mid is the flavour you only get after simmering for 40-odd years in a bath of double standards, misogyny, and unrealistic expectations. Mid will do us just fine.