Can I just say this? Those of us born in the 1960s and ‘70s are in a special hell right now. With jobs being taken away and careers being cut short and talents losing out to “influencers” and AI and Bots that Chat, it’s been a uniquely painful time. Those in my generation who chose artistic-scientific careers are facing a one-two kick to the groin, as we see the abandonment of the analog world that shaped our life choices combined with powerful men making those choices moot and the same powerful men gutting science as we know it. As our skills lose their value and a band of merry narcissists take aim at everything we’ve accomplished, our careers are fizzling, our identities crumbling.
One excellent writer I know is gainfully employed…teaching AI how to write more like a human. We are training our replacements. We have no choice. I’m trying to see it as progress but I’m just not there yet.
Since I’m on a rant, I’m going to add another layer to this crap sandwich. As a Gen-Xer who happens to be a writer in the sciences while also being a woman, I, and those of you sharing this combo platter, sit in an especially disorienting place.
It’s not news that for many women, a feeling of invisibility and diminished self-worth seeps in by menopause. That it’s become a bit of a cliché doesn’t make it less valid: It’s common for 50+ women to see themselves as past their prime in every way, and for others to see the same, if they see anything at all. Recently, wandering through Marshall’s carrying two shirts to try on, I realized I could easily walk out without paying and, except for an alarm triggered by the stolen items, nobody would notice. Nobody had looked me in the eye or even glanced my way since I entered the store. Nothing to see here.
Frustratingly, many of us also experienced Imposter Syndrome in our 30s and 40s when we were seen; not long after finally rising above that feeling and coming to value ourselves, in the world’s eyes we disappeared.
A lot of this is just life; it’s just the way things are in human society. We age. Big changes happen. Some of us get caught in that dreaded middle zone as the world pivots to accommodate what’s new. What’s old becomes quaint and collectable, maybe, or just loses its luster. We have to adapt…or let old ambitions and expectations go. Spend less time peering into the mirror. Plant a garden.
And I shouldn’t complain. I am in a better place than many, with opportunities and connections, friends and family, and a bank account not yet depleted. I might have to work harder to feel fulfilled than I once did, but I do have choices. That my most treasured talents are less valued than they were before isn’t the end for me. I won’t let it be.
Still, DAMN. Today’s forced “transitions” are more like bombs going off around us. My fellow writer and science-loving lady Gen-Xers are falling behind in ways we never expected. What’s ahead is unclear, and we are having to dig deep to find the meaning in it all, to feel that the lives we’ve led so far have been valuable and have made the world a better place.
Sometimes it feels good to rage about it just a little, so I appreciate your indulging me. Life is hard. For most people.
And TBH, so is gardening! Never mind rolling boulders: Sisyphus (who, btw, held onto his job indefinitely and never suffered a hot flash) should try eliminating Japanese stilt grass. I’d welcome the extra set of hands.
Photo: Seeking permission (and forgiveness) for use. I call it Lady Sisyphus 2025.