Riding out the storm
I took one of my daughters on a date the other day. We walked through an al fresco piazza and settled into a booth in a nearby café. Within minutes, dark clouds rolled in and a storm hit.
Conversation within the café was drowned out by the constant drum of rain onto the roof. We looked out and saw lightning, rain pouring over shop awnings, and diners and waiters scurrying to escape the downpour.
My little girl shifted uneasily in her chair and looked at me. ‘Should we go now?’ she asked, as she glanced over at the sheets of rain falling outside. I looked around the warm café and then out at the storm, and I turned back to her and smiled.
“This would be the worst time to go, we are in the best place possible right now. The storm will soon pass.”
Reassured, my daughter relaxed and sat back and enjoyed her crepe. I smiled and savoured the one on one time with her.
It is easy to lose our sense of place when the environment turns loud. Sitting inside that cafe, we were completely protected, yet watching others scramble created a false sense of emergency. She was making decisions based on the storm's noise rather than the reality of the roof over her head.
In my practice, I sit across from women navigating ferocious midlife storms.
Supporting their children through school exams. Caring for ageing parents. Doing the work of three people in their job. Advocating for their children in the school and medical systems. Finding a lump, and charting a course through investigations and specialist appointments. Reckoning with hormonal changes, brain fog and the shift in identity that comes with this stage of life.
When life converges like this, the immediate instinct can be to run, burn down routines, or panic, assuming our capacity has failed.
The storm will eventually pass. But your value and identity as a person will not be diminished by the rain. Your worth was established long before the clouds rolled in.
When the storm passes, it can leave the landscape changed. You may walk those same paths with new eyes. But while the wind blows, have confidence where you are, and who you are.
Stay anchored. Rest in the quiet assurance that you are safe, kept, and held, right where you are.
Medical Information Disclaimer: The content in The Long Run Journal is for general educational and informational purposes only. It does not constitute medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment, and does not establish a doctor-patient relationship. Always seek the advice of your qualified healthcare provider regarding any medical condition or training changes. In accordance with AHPRA and TGA guidelines, patient testimonials are not permitted, and individual clinical outcomes will vary.