midlife women

A new team entered the C-suite 4 years later and a reorganization ensued. Many, many positions were eliminated and mine was one of them. I was gutted. I always imagined I would retire with this company when I was old. And at 54, I didn’t consider myself there yet. Also, I’m a determined Do-er and a Get-er Done-er.

Now what?

I signed for my bronze parachute package (I hadn’t fully cracked the glass ceiling but I caught glimpses on the horizon). Then over the next few months, I anxiously pondered my possibilities. I ran ideas past my husband but he mostly just listened. He was amenable to whatever I landed on. I needed other opinions.

Then it hit me hard: I had no posse. No inner circle of local friends. It was just me.

I had bought into the common illusion that my work colleagues were my friends. And why not? We spent so, so much time together. We shared the intensity, the creative process, and the drama that pervades most work spaces. I didn’t have to explain to them the technical details and jargon that comprised my day, like I did for My Beloved.

Even though several of these connections were remote, the bantering DMs and periodic team gatherings felt satisfyingly legit. But when that common thread was broken, I realized I was on my own.

I had orchestrated a new life chapter. But I failed to include the in-person nearby connections that are essential.

Oh, not for lack of trying. My husband already had a few good friends living here before we moved. We made the rounds when we arrived. But as any woman will attest, there is no guarantee those wives will become your good friends, too. For me, they did not.

And with two energetic chihuahuas in need of a daily morning walk, I had assumed I’d meet and bond with my neighbors. Sadly, the predominant triple digits keep most of them in the house or in the car. I relish my private communion with each day’s sunrise. But the lack of humans out and about on foot was in stark contrast to my former Midwest neighborhood.

Clearly, I needed to get out of my self-imposed cocoon. No small feat for someone like me who can happily and readily spend days home alone.