🪺Glimmer Nest : Turning 50

Finding Light in Life's Unexpected Playlist

There's something surreal about typing the words "I'm turning 50 this week." Part of me wants to double-check the math, as if there's been some cosmic accounting error. Yet here I am, standing at the threshold of a new decade, with feelings as mixed as a playlist that shifts from contemplative ballads to unexpected dance tracks. But, that’s the way I’ve always liked it. I was a DJ in another lifetime and even though I know longer have my vinyl collection, my Spotify playlists are wildly nostalgic and eclectic. Here’s one below in case you need something truly bizarre. It will give you a true view of my personality. 🤪

🎁The Gift of Being Here

First, let me acknowledge the profound gratitude I feel simply to be here, present and engaged with life. This time last year, my future hung in the balance in the most terrifying way. The weight of existence felt unbearable, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to continue on this earth. The dark cloud that enveloped me made even the simplest tasks—getting out of bed, brushing my teeth, responding to requests like “what’s for breakfast” —feel like climbing Everest without oxygen.

Now, I'm seeing light at the end of what has been a very long tunnel. Not constant sunshine, not every day, but enough glimpses to keep moving forward. From not being able to get out of bed with that debilitating darkness to doing Snoop Dogg's affirmations with my sweet boy before we start the day while laughing... that journey alone feels worthy of celebration.

🎊Celebrations: Then and Now

I find myself remembering how great my 40th birthday was—surrounded by friends, the kind of celebration that makes it into photo albums and gets referenced years later. This milestone will be quieter, more intimate, celebrated within my little family unit of three. And there's both beauty and truth in that contrast.

One of the promises I've made to myself: my first professional haircut in many years. It seems like such a small thing, doesn't it? But for those of us deep in the trenches of caregiving and career juggling, these small acts of self-care often fall away first. Reclaiming this simple ritual feels like a quiet rebellion against the typical nature of my responsibilities. You see, leaving the house without my constant companion, my 6+ foot tall baby giant with autism is a rarity.

🛣️When Simple Becomes Complex: Navigating PDA

Speaking of those responsibilities, my son has been exhibiting signs of PDA (Pathological Demand Avoidance) recently, which is both fascinating from a neuroscience perspective and supremely challenging in our day-to-day life.

For those unfamiliar with PDA, it's important to understand that the PDA brain isn't being defiant—it's experiencing a genuine threat response to perceived loss of autonomy. When demands activate this response, executive function skills (planning, organizing, regulating emotions) temporarily shut down.

What this means practically is that decisions that once took 30 seconds now stretch into half-hour negotiations. Breakfast can become a two-hour process. And I find myself thankful, yet again, that my work arrangement allows me to be home, because traditional schooling simply wouldn't be happening right now.

Understanding this neurological reaction has transformed my approach:

• Executive dysfunction isn't willful behavior

• Demand avoidance isn't poor parenting

• It's a legitimate neurological threat response

One strategy I've found helpful is supporting executive function by "wondering aloud" instead of making direct requests. "I wonder if we might need shoes for our walk..." often works better than "Put on your shoes now." The difference is subtle but profound.

Interestingly, I’ve also found that if I talk to myself the same way about things I’m dragging my feet on … I can also end up with more positive results. Example: “I wonder how my life will turn out if I just hang in there…”

🙈 Birthday Reflections and Fears

Whenever birthdays come for my sweet boy, I remember our first attempt at a traditional party for him. We invited family friends with young children and work colleagues with little ones. It was, to put it gently, an epic failure. No one showed up, and my son (not yet diagnosed with autism) spent the afternoon under a table at the Children's Museum in the crash test position—knees pulled up, head down, completely overwhelmed.

I find myself lately in a very scared mindset, wondering if these new behaviors are permanent or just a phase. Will it always take two hours to eat breakfast? Will he continue to say "everything is shutting down" multiple times a day? The uncertainty feels especially poignant as I enter this new decade, this (potentially) middle part of life's journey where I thought certain things would be settled by now.

✨The Creator vs. The Participant

My personality is such that I love creating party experiences—the planning, designing, and orchestrating of meaningful gatherings. But the party itself? I'd rather watch it unfold on CCTV from a quiet room nearby. This isn't new. I've been on several gala committees and coordinated many large-scale events with 500+ attendees. Yet the making of the experience is infinitely more appealing to me than being at the center of it.

I'm not entirely sure what this says about me, but perhaps this birthday of quiet reflection is actually ideal for who I am. I'm the person who enjoys making crossword puzzles rather than solving them, who thrives in one-on-one conversations with those I know but feels my anxiety spike in breakout rooms with strangers. Anything remotely resembling a blind date—even the social variety—sends my system into high alert.

I’m also lucky enough to be married to someone who values my transparency about this and secretly shares it. He’s a introvert masquerading as an extrovert at times, but to everyone that knows him they think they have him figured out… not so. While he is infinitely more gregarious than I am, he also understands what social anxiety feels like. This is one of our songs …

🌟Finding Celebration in the Everyday

So what does celebration look like when you're a creator more than a participant, when your family navigates neurodiversity daily, and when you're emerging from one of life's darker times?

For me, it looks like:

• A haircut that says "I'm worth this care" and that doesn’t require me to watch YouTube tutorials as I contort my arms into Edward Scissorhand-like configurations

• Laughter with my son over Snoop Dogg affirmations

• The small victory of a meal completed in less than two hours

• Moments of genuine connection rather than performative gathering

• Acknowledging the courage it took to move from last year's darkness to this year's glimmers of light

• Not putting all my eggs in one basket and allowing life to unfold in a way that’s more organic and less controlled

🤗The Courage to Continue

Turning 50 in the context of my particular life circumstances has taught me that courage doesn't always wear dramatic costumes. Sometimes courage looks like persistence in the face of a brain that wants to shut down. Sometimes it's the willingness to celebrate quietly when culture suggests milestone birthdays should be blowout affairs. Sometimes it's simply the choice to continue, day after day, creating a life worth living even when the path looks nothing like what you once imagined.

I'm learning that there are profound lessons in adapting our expectations without abandoning our dreams entirely. My work still matters. My mothering still matters. And yes, my birthday still matters, even if it's celebrated in ways that honor who I actually am rather than who I thought I'd be at 50.

🪹Looking Forward

As I move forward I carry both wisdom and questions, both grief for what isn't and gratitude for what is. I don't know if my son's current behaviors are a phase or a permanent shift. I don't know exactly what my life will look like in the coming years. I don't know if future birthdays will be quiet family affairs or if I'll surprise myself by hosting a big gathering after all.

And perhaps these things are enough of a victory to celebrate as I turn 50—not the grand accomplishments I might once have imagined, but the profound achievement of creating a life that accommodates both struggle and joy, both limitation and possibility.

Here's to 50, to the middle of the journey, to the path that looks nothing like I expected and exactly like what I need.

🧁Sending cupcakes with sprinkles and ice cream,

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How are you celebrating, adapting, or reimagining the milestones in your life? Share your thoughts with our Glimmer Nest community.

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