Wait, who turned up the heat? What’s that rash on my foot? Why do I feel like I’ve been run over? I want to cry, but I don’t know why. Again.
You better stay out of my way…or perhaps I’ll just hide away...
This week I was captured by the change beast. The hormone hijacker, the energy vampire. It commandeered my spirit and replaced it with a stranger.
It took my boundless energy and turned it into a lazy mess.
It filled my joyful heart with fury and turned my happy thoughts into doom and gloom.
It swiped my patience and traded it with irritation and tuned into my ego and made it roar.
It wiped away my caring nature and replaced it with apathy.
It got hold of the gills in my throat and made them pulsate until they ached.
It tuned into my hopes and dreams and made them feel small and worthless.
It stole my rosey eyes and made the world look bleak and filled them with unwanted tears until I couldn’t see.
This week I was taken over by the menopause monster and instead of fighting it, I let it in.
So I find a quiet corner to breathe and I am reminded that now is the only thing that matters. I see a single sailboat, that at first made me cry, but now I see its lone power in the middle of this wide ocean of blue. I see a solitary butterfly, dancing around the air, going about its business and enjoying its own company.
Thank you, menopause monster for stopping me in my tracks and making me strong.
Thank you for your gift of grace and for allowing me to see your beauty.
For reminding me that I am not defined by who I am or who I was, nor what I do or how I feel today.
For allowing me to just be.
It taught me how to be the heroine in this novel of mine.
To survive when the odds are stacked against me.
To dive deep into the wounds, win the battles and stand strong.
To keep my heart open through this inner, mysterious war.
To feel, once again that my wrinkles are my stripes.
That it is OK when the world keeps turning and I’m stood still.
To honour this change and laugh out loud because it doesn’t matter!
That I have time to take myself away and ground, take a breath, renew.
I felt my heavy heart of ice slowly melt.
I felt all corners of my confusion and disconnect and loved it harder than I could imagine.
I felt the ferocious mess in my stomach slowly dissipate.
I watched the fog that covered my brain, gently clear.
I felt nothing but calm.
My lessons at forty-seven?
Give me time, I will remember. Give me space, I will learn, Give me breath, I will connect. Give me gratitude, I will love.
Not all monsters are bad.
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