In Fine Fettle: A Midlife Perspective
Balancing health, happiness and mortality
I've been reflecting on my health recently, particularly after waking up on Wednesday, 24th July, with what can only be described as the Black Death. It wiped me out for a good 10 days, five of which I got almost zero sleep on account of my awful cough. Then E got it and kept me up for a further four nights with his cough. It’s been a joyful place to be, I can tell you!
As I tiptoe towards 50 (five years, people), it’s becoming increasingly clear just how important it is to take care of myself, especially given my family history. My parents both died in their early seventies, cancer and heart issues, which has left a lasting impression and deep sadness. It’s shaped my understanding of mortality in a very pragmatic way. I’ve come to accept that I might not live past 75, which isn’t something I dread; it’s just how I see life playing out. And lets be realistic, many people sadly won’t ever see 75.
This mindset isn’t something I came to on a whim; it’s been influenced by years of watching the people around me deal with illness and loss. My grandparents also died relatively young, except my paternal grandfather, who lived into his late 80s, though he suffered from Parkinson’s for years. I’ve seen other family members, friends and colleagues manage chronic illness, burnout and cancer and the toll these take on body, mind and spirit. Seeing this firsthand not only makes me extremely grateful for my own good health but also makes me more determined to take care of my health and not waste the time I have when I’m in fine fettle.
If you’ve not spent much time in the glorious North of England, "in fine fettle" is a term I heard often during my 11 years living in Yorkshire. In the simplest terms, it means being ‘in good spirits and robust health’.
Moving to Orkney was part of this journey adventure. I made the decision with the hope that living in a place like this would help me live a better, more meaningful and healthier life. I’ve been focused on trying to find ways to extend my life, not just in terms of years but in quality and meaning.
Alas, this is where I face my biggest challenge. Despite my best intentions, I find it incredibly difficult to live mindfully, to live a life that feels truly meaningful. The demands of day-to-day life often feel relentless and can leave me feeling like I’m just going through the motions rather than truly living.
It’s not that I’m ungrateful for my life; quite the opposite. I’m acutely aware of how fortunate I am to be as healthy as I am, despite a few aches and pains and the perimenopause of course. But I also feel this constant pressure, a nagging sense that I’m running out of time. If I’m lucky, I might have 30 more years, but possibly less. This thought is always in the back of my mind.
But of course, non-sensible Han likes to trip me up. I’m finding it’s a constant battle between intention and action. I spend so much time thinking about the things I want to do, planning and dreaming, but when it comes to actually doing them, I often fall short. It’s like I’m stuck in this endless loop of wanting more, but not quite being able to break free from the routines and habits that keep me stuck on the hamster wheel of the everyday.
I talked about this with my therapist last week and she was puzzled by my resignation to the idea that I won’t live past 75. But to me, it feels like a simple acceptance of what is likely to be my reality. It doesn’t feel defeatist or pessimistic; it’s just the way I’ve come to see things after seeing the fragility of life. I’ve been to more funerals than I can count and while my parents’ deaths were the closest to me, they were far from the first. Death has been a part of my life for a long time and I think that’s shaped my pragmatic approach to it.
But even with this acceptance, I still struggle. I want to live a meaningful life, to make the most of the time I have left, but it’s hard. It’s hard to live mindfully when the world around me is constantly pulling me in different directions. It’s hard to stay focused on what’s truly important when the demands of daily life are so overwhelming. And it’s hard not to compare myself to others, to feel like I’m not doing enough, highlighted by the fact I’m not sure I can ever live up to my own expectations.
As I reflect on this, I try to remind myself that it’s not about achieving some ideal version of myself or my life. It’s about finding peace with where I am right now. Maybe one day I’ll learn to accept myself for who I am and not what I think I should be.
In other news, an Instagram pal, Susan aka Curly Sunami, made the journey from Mainland to Hoy to spend the day with me on Tuesday. We drank tea, ate food, enjoyed a cliff-top walk and finished off with a float in the sea. And we talked a lot, obviously! While you might see a lot of snarky comments about IG here, my personal account is primarily a place of joy, filled with gardens, sea swimming, food and friends.
The past week or so has been less joyful, as Instagram has been the primary source of information and video footage of the hideous riots we saw in supposed response to the stabbing and killing of three little girls. While Substack is a lovely place to be, it still remains a bit cut off from reality and I need that balance in my life, even if it’s awful to see. I hope you haven’t been directly impacted by the riots, but I know the indirect effects could be long-lasting. At a networking event on Friday, someone mentioned that her Indian husband had been having nightmares about being targeted and caught up in the riots. No-one should be made to feel like that.
As always, thanks for reading and for coming along on this ride with me.
Take care of yourselves and cherish the good days.
Han 🌱
The week in sub-stats
After coming back to SS and putting in a concerted effort to find some fabulous new people, this is what happened.
Subscribers: 68 (↑7)
Followers: 133 (↑20)
Pledges: 1 (=)
Last post: 62% open rate; 102 views; 6 likes; 8 comments; 0 new subs; 1 restack.
Thank you for being so candid here. The topic of mortality is a scary one for me, and I often don't know how to manage my thoughts/fears that come along with it. I know I can't ignore it, but my mind wanders so quickly and fiercely! Still have lots of work to do in therapy around this. Sometimes my husband and I wonder—what does it even look like to live a life of meaning? We want that, too. Deeply.
Enjoying reading your posts! Friends of ours moved to Orkney a couple of years ago too! Rob & Vicky Hersey? Obviously there’s no reason you should know them but maybe you do ;)