Growing Old

Growing old… growing… becoming more, not less.

Learning how to be me –a new me? or more me?

I don’t feel old. There is no loss involved.

I give myself permission to find myself, be myself, love myself.

I used to say I don’t care what other people think of me. That was a lie. It is still a lie but somehow it is more true.

I care what I think of myself, (now I am actually thinking of myself) and it feels good.

KATIE HOLMES

M is for Mountain, M is for Menopause

The path to the summit is hard. The exertion makes you breathe heavily. Be careful of your footing. It is easy to turn your ankle on the rocks. Loose stones slip away as you tread on them. Rough heather scratches your shins. Descending will be even harder.

Stopping for a moment to catch your breath, hot and cold rush through you. The coolness of the air on your skin is a relief. Tiredness washes over you, like a wave when you misjudge the swell swimming in the sea. But you know you will surface again. Tiredness reveals your strength. You sense your body’s power. Your mind, your will, your emotions, your body are one, unified in the task of carrying you on and on, further up the winding path.

Years of walking and running in the hills have grown into a core of grit inside you. However bad it feels now you know this pain will pass.

At the summit, you rest one arm on the trig point as you stretch your aching quads and calf muscles. The landmarks you have left behind are veiled in mist. There is no further up to go. To the east, a new horizon lies before you. You have found your own way here, to the top of this mountain.

Will you retrace your steps and return to the valley? Or will you take another path down and then walk on, up to the next summit?