It happens to the best of us—that sudden, uninvited heaviness that settles in like an afternoon fog. There isn’t always a "why." You didn’t lose your keys, the car isn't making a weird noise, and the world is spinning exactly as it should, yet there you are, feeling a bit hollowed out.
When you’re an "older woman who rocks," society expects you to have it all figured out. We’re supposed to be the anchors, the wisdom-sharers, the ones with the sturdy shoulders. But sometimes, those shoulders just want to slump.
Erma Bombeck understood that. She spent decades making us laugh at the absurdity of life, but she was a master at acknowledging the quiet, lonely corners of it, too. She once said:
"I’ve always worried about people who can’t laugh at themselves. It’s like being born without a funny bone. You’re always vulnerable."
When that untriggered sadness hits, maybe the "funny bone" is just tired. It’s okay to let it rest. Erma’s humor worked because it was rooted in the absolute truth that life is messy, and aging doesn’t necessarily make the mess any easier to sweep up—it just gives you a more interesting broom.
The Truth About the "No-Reason" Sadness
There is a specific kind of bravery in admitting you're sad when you have "no reason" to be. We tend to audit our lives: I have my health, I have my family, I have my work—I shouldn't feel this way. But Erma would likely tell you that "should" is a useless word. She lived through real scares—cancer, kidney failure, the loss of friends—and she knew that humor wasn't a way to hide from the sadness, but a way to survive it. She reminded us that:
You don’t have to be "on" all the time. If the lead singer of the band needs a solo in a minor key, let her sing it.
The sadness isn't a failure. It’s just the price of having a heart that’s been open for several decades. It gets a little weathered.
A little bit of absurdity helps. Erma used to joke about her house being so dirty she wrote "Drip Dry" on the bathtub. When the weight feels heavy, finding one tiny, ridiculous thing to acknowledge can be the first crack of light.
Moving Through the Fog
If you’re feeling it today, don't rush to fix it with a "gratitude list" or a forced smile. Just sit with it. Treat it like a guest who didn't RSVP—you don't have to throw a party for it, but you can acknowledge it's in the room.
As Erma beautifully put it: "Guilt is the gift that keeps on giving." Don't let yourself feel guilty for being human. You've earned the right to every emotion you feel, even the ones that don't make sense on paper.
The fog always lifts. And when it does, the "Older Woman Who Rocks" is still there—maybe a little quieter, maybe a little more tired, but infinitely more real.
Marge Farrington OWRO
