v.19 So, This Is Middle Age? Orthotics and Other Betrayals (a sad storyš)
Welcome to Life, Createdāa new [old school] blog for modern times. This twice-a-week(ish) dispatch is a space for us to dig deeper, recognize microjoys and build community beyond the mindless scroll.
Ah, middle age-ishāthe phase of life where your body starts sending out passive-aggressive memos that it's no longer interested in how youād like it to behave. Aside from now wearing prescription readers, suddenly the soles that carried me through late-night NYC adventures and questionable shoe choices are now staging a silent protest against me. And let me just say: these attacksāif you willāare starting to feel very personal.
Another wake-up call came recently when my feet, my formerly reliable foundation, decided they needed āextra supportāāwhich, frankly, I found to be super shady. I mean, I get pedicures every other week; why wouldnāt my feet be a bit nicer to me, considering all I do for them?! Alas.
I tried to pretend the podiatrist wasnāt serious, but there I was, holding a pair of custom orthotics and wondering how I had arrived at this weird place. The real shitshow, though? My first private test run was sliding them into my high-top black suede Vansā one of my go-to looks for feeling effortlessly cool. It felt like I was betraying some unspoken pact between my younger self (hey girl, hey!) and my current reality.
The whole thing was awkwardājust so weird. I waited until I was home alone, then forcefully slid the orthotics in, like I was trying to smuggle drugs past airport security. When I finally put them on and stood up, my feet sighed with relief, but my pride took a bit of a hit. I mean, when did this happen? How did I go from my carefree days spent barefoot on a yoga mat or fashionably wearing cowboy boots to this? The same Vans that used to pair perfectly with cut-offs now carried the secret shame of arch support. Damn, life will get ya, wonāt it?
a few beloved pairs in my collectionā¦
this is shameful.
But the real heartbreak came with my cowboy boots. These boots are my armorāworn, reliable, and unapologetically me. Iāve been wearing these beauties decades before Bey went country. But trying to cram orthotics into them? That was next level logistical chaos. The insoles were way too big, and I found myself stomping around the house like I was breaking in a pair of hiking boots, trying to make it work. For a second, I considered giving up on them altogether, but that felt like surrendering a part of who I am.
(Side note: Back in my fashion days, one unnamed designer actually told me to stop āstomping through the showroom with cowboy boots on.ā I politely asked if heād like to find someone else to fill my position. True story. Also, I donāt stomp. Ever. He was being an asshole.)
Eventually, I decided that feet be damned, my cowboy boots would stay orthotic-less for the time being. Iām still trying to find a middle ground between the person I was and the person Iām becoming. My late forties seems to be full of these small compromisesāthese quiet moments of reckoning. But what Iām learning is that adapting doesnāt mean losing myself but insteadā inserting a little extra support and carrying on. In Vans, in cowboy boots, and in life.
Middle age: we didnāt ask for it, but damn if weāre not making it fabulous. Ish. Now go forth and celebrate the absurd brilliance of lifeās middle chapters. (And donāt forget to force your orthotics into your shoes on the way out.)
Every essay features a section called āOne Fine Microjoyā ā an experience, place, or thing that brings me joy, grace, and hope amidst lifeās ups and downs. I hope it invites you to recognize and appreciate the delights that ground, inspire, and enrich our journey.
The world feels unbearably harsh at times, doesnāt it? But every so often, thereās a small act of kindness that softens the edges. Like last week, when I saw a to-go bag at a cafĆ©. Instead of just a name scrawled on it, the barista added a little sketch of a catāsimple, thoughtful, and entirely unexpected. It was such a quiet, lovely gesture, reminding me that even in times like these, people are still out here choosing kindness. And my goodness, couldnāt we all use more of this right now?
Thatās all for today. Thanks for reading Life, Created.
With love, wisdom [and small mercies] from Montclair. xx
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