Second Adolescence

Transformation, acceptance and FUN

I used to think I had all the time in the world. I was young, then, and the future seemed laid out in front of me, expansive, never-ending. I could make mistakes, pick myself up, and keep going to make more, and learn from them. I could fall in love, fall out of love, and fall excitingly in love once again.

my 1989 high school senior portrait, me when I was religious, recent me with a new haircut

I could try things—waitress at a bar-restaurant and eat fried food until 4 in the morning with people I’d never otherwise meet. Make love in the middle of the day with the windows open. Shovel a long driveway of heavy snow unaware that I’d later lay in bed in agony, my back sore and aching from the effort. Always believing there’d be another day, with me at its center, able to do anything.

The freedom of becoming yourself. It’s a short window of time, only to close once real life hits you in the face: bills, responsibilities, a job to go to with specific hours and demands.

Adolescence, psychologists say, is about transformation. Changing state from one way of being to another radically different one. The formal definition of this period is “a unique stage of human development and an important time for laying the foundations…with rapid physical, cognitive and psychosocial growth.”

Typically, it’s the time between age 10 and 19, the growing-up, literally from child to adult, awareness of the unfair world and your singular role as a human separate from all others. Scary, perhaps. And exciting if you want to look at it that way.

But it can happen at any time, really, if the hallmarks are transformation and self-acceptance. And one might argue that it can’t really happen so young, only because we are still under the spell of the adults in our lives, seeking their approval, hoping to fit in.

So when midlife rolls around (or later) and you start to access the core self, isn’t that a form of adolescence?

With all the upside-down-ness of this world today, the awful politics and devastating conflicts, the constant loss of life and consuming hatred, I had forgotten there was joy and beauty, too.

I’m so glad I remembered.

I think happiness might be a choice, especially in the face of hardship and devastation. To turn the music up loud, to dance with abandon, to hug long and tight.

Recently, I paddled a kayak over the choppy Detroit River under a cloudy sky that hid a full blue moon. It was a cold night, and the water was warm in comparison, almost bathy. The waves were serious, and I rode them with a smile, bundled into my long sleeves, the sun disappearing behind a distant horizon, the sky purpling and turning dark blue and then black, the faint lights of the city my only guide.

I danced for hours with my youngest son in a packed theater, the beat and lyrics and utter joy of the Avett Brothers seeping into my blood. Music is healing. Music is an equalizer. And the poetry of the lyrics, one person’s way of noticing the miracle of living, becomes a promise, a hope, a kiss to everyone who hears it.

At the Avett Brothers concert with my son, 2 pics from the Meijer Gardens in Grand Rapids, kayaking on the Detroit River with my husband and son

A few weeks before that, my husband and I drove two hours to stay in a bed-and-breakfast, explore beautiful gardens, and dance all night at a live Phish concert. Unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, the light shows so dazzling, the long musical sets so uplifting, invigorating, and the sense of happy community healing.

In each of these experiences, I felt lucky to be alive. To be there, in that moment, in the midst of all that was happening. To experience, hear, see, connect. One experience and then another, my mind opened to awe, drinking it in.

At the Phish concert with my husband

Awe: a feeling of reverential respect mixed with fear or wonder.

Someone told me recently about awe walks—going on a walk with the goal of finding awe for things, sights, sounds, noticing. Have you ever done that? Gone down the paved path of your life with your eyes searching for something incredible?

Recently, I went to the forest by myself. Didn’t take my phone or journal. Just walked with the purpose of being there, of smelling the damp soil, of hearing the calls of birds, exactly how they sound—screech, caw, cheep, click. Of noticing the way a bead of dew or rain forms a perfect circle on a blade of grass, how the blade of grass itself is so symmetrical and sturdy, run my fingers along it and feel almost a slice but not deep enough to draw blood.

Living things are hardier than we realize.

During the pandemic, nature corrected all the problems we’d inflicted on it, and quickly. Locked up in our homes, off the streets, the forest and the desert and the rivers cleaned up and became fuller, faster, more themselves. We were out of the way. it didn’t take long to put the world to rights.

Imagine that.

The other day, I had a little reckoning. All the years that I’ve been aware of myself, I’ve wished I were different. And when I look back at my younger self, I am amazed that I didn’t love every little detail about me then!

Why the dissatisfaction with this miracle mind, this miracle body, this unique curve or shine?

And so I vowed to dive into acceptance, to say this is who I am now, accept what is rather than wish for what was. It’s all an illusion anyway. My husband often says, “I wish you could see what I see.” Yes, I say, I do too.

I think if there were no mirrors and no society magazines telling me what is beautiful, I would be radically happy in myself. And so I decided I would be. Easy as that. This beating heart. These seeing eyes. This creative, vibrant mind. This active, capable body.

This time around, in my second adolescence, I am more aware, have more resources, understand my tastes and preferences, and so it is more fun. Freeing. Exhilarating, really.

Mary Oliver said in her poem, “The Summer Day,” "what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”

Live, I would tell her. Truly, and completely live.

Virtual Launch, CAVE OF SECRETS

If you missed the virtual launch of my second novel, CAVE OF SECRETS, feel free to watch the recording here. And please, buy the book (purchase links are here), and if you like it, write a review on Goodreads or Amazon!! I so appreciate the support.

Thanks for reading Lynne Golodner’s Rebel Author Newsletter, a weekly missive about writing and publishing and living your best life. If you like what you read, please consider becoming a paid subscriber and win a chance at monthly book giveaways. And please share these words with others who might find them useful.