Midlife Liminality Series Part 3: Separation from the Glorious Past

The first phase of the midlife transition is the separation, with the main aspect of it being the ego's conscious separation from the persona identification. We need to realize the 'crack' in the identity between the now self, and the former self– the "who I now feel I am" (the ego) and "who I appeared to be– in my own eyes and in the eyes of others in the past" (the former persona). Just a quick peek into this crack alone can already be terrifying.

"Vague longing and boredom are close akin." – Arthur Schopenhauer.

I remember the feeling when I was in a severe state of boredom. This was during my late thirties when I left the pinnacle of my career, moved abroad and got married. I transitioned from a busy career woman to a full-time, stay-at-home– let's say, housewife.

To me, it goes without saying that when it comes to defining boredom, the word 'housewife' itself is its synonym. I couldn't find a better word to associate myself with at the time, and I still cannot until this day. Every time I have to fill out a form that asks about my vocational status (which is very common in Japan, even the irrelevant form like at the vet, or applying for internet or new sim card), I still struggle to find what would be appropriate and reach the highest accuracy of how I feel about what I do– at home.

I still remember those first few months when I savored the silence in the house when I had nobody calling me– all the time, or sending me texts about some petty issues that needed approval or decision– all the time, this was a period of endless vacation on the beach for me.

But the vacation didn't last long at all, at least not long enough for me to absorb the reality to consciously realize that now it was time to separate from my former persona identity. I couldn't sit with the anxiety of not knowing what to do yet, how to live a slower life, how to relax and be in the present moment with my actual Self.

And I hated the feeling when in social gatherings people asked me what I was doing. I would freeze because I didn't want to admit that I was now categorized as a housewife (or couldn't think of a better word as I froze in fear). A lot of women are happily able to accept this status, but I wasn't one of them. I had a pretty negative association with the word growing up in a culture where we were taught;

"A person's value lies in the job they do". This essentially means that your worth is measured in your productivity, especially financial products– your income. And that if you don't work (full-time) or have some sort of job (that generates income), you are worthless. In those days and still now in the majority part of Thai economic development, this concept is still pretty much valid even though we may be classified as an upper-middle-income country the majority of the population is still living in poverty. When survival is the main concern, so is the person's ability to generate income.

Therefore in a household where the breadwinner is only the husband, the wife; who unfortunately doesn't receive as much recognition and respect for the hard work she does, would inevitably fall into the inferior position in the household, and in the society. This phenomenon may appear to exist in the post-war era or the Great Depression of the 1920s, yet its relevance persists in many parts of the world today.

I firmly believe that nobody's identity and worth should be defined or assessed by their occupation or income source. Many families are single-income by choice, and there's no reason they should feel diminished or compelled to apologize for their advantageous position. Similarly to the decision not to become parents, also made by choice, should not be subjected to our judgment. Who are we to arbitrate what constitutes the ideal way for people to lead their lives?

Regardless of one's career choice, labeling women, particularly as 'housewives,' fails to acknowledge the diverse and significant roles many stay-at-home wives play which often extend beyond traditional domestic responsibilities. The term 'housewife' therefore, in my view, doesn't accurately represent the diverse and valuable roles a wife plays within a household and the society at large.

It took me a long time to unlearn that belief of tying my worth to a day job. Prior to that, I used to avoid social gatherings because of that agony question, "So, what do you do?", and tried so hard to find something to do so that I would feel proud of myself again.

This was the first few years– three full years, to be precise, of me being overly fixated on past achievements, successes, and validation from society to the point that it hindered my ability to adapt to the present. I still thought I would live my life in the same way, do things that were not housewife stuff. I discounted all the contributions I made to my husband and our marriage because it was housewife stuff.

In that period of time, I blindly believed that I needed to pursue something challenging to keep the feeling of importance. Things like finding a job in an environment where most employers' policies are influenced by religious and gender-related restrictions, and in countries where English is not at all an option for official or everyday use language.

I looked at everything from the former persona identification's perspective. I couldn't accept that I had already taken that mask off and thrown it out of the moving train I had taken from being a single architect to becoming a (house)wife. When we cannot develop past the persona, we will be trapped in a role and identity that no matter where it takes us, this identity must be followed.

This was the biggest defeat; losing my glory, and it happened at the very critical and most vulnerable moment in my life– around the midlife point.

The entire period of that time, my ego ran the show while still attached to the former persona. I really believed that nothing was actually different, and I persevered in holding on to an earlier pattern of living, doing, and thinking. Keeping busy with to-do list, planning, bombarded learnings, and attempting to be functional at all times even without any meaningful purposes.

But my busyness had outlived its usefulness and was not needed.

I lived every day like a demon possession inside; the new life circumstances and psychological situations that I refused to absorb got me going mad. It led me to significant psychological distress and inner (and outer) conflicts, that eventually manifested in physical health issues, and ended with a period of depression. All of it happened just because I was mortified by the prospect of facing the future without my familiar Self.

I felt the rapid descending, down into what felt like the sea of the unknown. Helpless and fearful for my own life– my stress grew, and I didn't know what to do except to do more.

I filled my mental space with things to do, worries, and anxiety, so I didn't have to feel that emptiness inside. And then filled the actual space with stuff so I wouldn't see the void of nothingness surrounding me. The more I did, the deeper I sank.

I wasn't aware that I should accept the architect was now dead and I had to find the corpse, then bury it for good. In order to find peace and move on, I had to reinvent a new identity and get to know this unknown stranger. I had to learn and master this new self and start moving through the second phase of the midlife transition which is liminality.

"The ego needs to let go of this attachment before it can float through the necessary period of liminality that is preliminary to a deeper discovery of the Self." – Murray Stein (In Midlife, p.27)

This shift is critical for the individuation process– the process of becoming our whole, integrated Self. It's crucial to know that there is a significant shift from a persona-oriented to a Self-oriented life. Failing to separate, can cause a person deep distress without knowing how it happened.

I'll give you an example before ending this part. It's a story of my mother who refused to stop mothering us– my siblings and me, even though we're now in our forties and she's in her seventies. All our lives up until we were married (less apparent, but there are still some controlling aspects), she was still meddling with almost every step we took, decisions we made, who we dated, everything even where we should put our elbows on the table.

She likes to say, "I will always be your mom!" which is true, biologically. But she isn't the mom in the sense of motherhood duty and responsibilities; our survivors are not reliant on her, we can find food for ourselves, care for our needs, and make our own life decisions.

This is the example of some of us who don't know that as we journey through life, it's important to shed our old skin, embrace the new one, and gracefully glide into the liminality we fear in order to come out integrated and whole.

See you in the next part, the third stage of the midlife transition– integration.