Why Do They Call It Meno”pause” When the Truth of the Matter Is That Most Things Either Come to a Screeching Halt or Come On Stronger

There are a few notorious symptoms of menopause or perimenopause (as in dancing around menopause, but not fully committing to it). Hot sweats (see: power surges), night sweats (like a dip in a hot spring without actually leaving your bed), irritability (What do you mean by that ?!?), and mood swings (Dr. Jeckyll and Mrs. Hyde). But there are so many others, you can’t even imagine. I was shocked one day as I was training to be a library volunteer. I went back to the employee area to put my thigs in a locker and saw this print-out posted on a pillar for the amusement (or disgust, depending from which side of “the change” you were looking) of all those in the place  who possessed ovaries, or all those in the place who ever knew anyone in possession of ovaries. Here is a tiny portion of that seemingly endless list:

Rogue hairs (see: waxing, bleaching, depilatories)

Insomnia (see: afternoon naps

Air hunger, or a sudden need to inhale deeply (see: 1969)

The truth is that just about the time our children, for those of us who have them, and husbands, for those of us who endure them, are broken in and trained, we begin a new adventure. And guess what. It’s not so bad. There are a few new things to learn about and negotiate. But something else happens. A kind of metamorphosis. A beautiful transformation into a deeper relationship with life, both our lives and the lives of those around us. Music is suddenly more meaningful, touch is suddenly more important, the beauty of the world around us is so much more evident and moving. And as for most, this change takes place around the same time as other changes in our lives, such as suddenly finding ourselves with more time. Time to stop and smell the lavender. Time to sit and read. Time to take some classes and discover that we can retain more than water. And we may find ourselves with quiet. I can be in the bathroom without someone knocking on the door. I can watch a movie and not hit the pause button once. I can work in the garden without stopping to go pick someone up after school. And we may find ourselves with choices. I can make a spinach souffle for dinner without listening to any whining. I can choose the movie at the video store. I can set the alarm for when I want to get up, whether it be very early, very late or not at all. Many of us are late bloomers. That is not meant to diminish the work we did up until this point. I was a mother and a wife and a homemaker. All of those were and are beautiful words to me. But now, I have time to write. I love to write. I have that awful affliction known as verbosity. I love words.

And I don’t mind the “changes” that allow me to find my passions.