{"id":1789,"date":"2015-05-29T06:00:09","date_gmt":"2015-05-29T10:00:09","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/thequeenofmyself\/?p=1789"},"modified":"2015-05-01T15:40:07","modified_gmt":"2015-05-01T19:40:07","slug":"the-joys-of-menopause-part-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/thequeenofmyself\/2015\/05\/the-joys-of-menopause-part-2.html","title":{"rendered":"The Joys of Menopause – Part 2"},"content":{"rendered":"

By Rosanne Barr\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

More than a few times recently, as a verified old woman, when I\u2019ve been tempted to view life as a swirling, chaotic rush from the womb to the tomb, I\u2019m brought to my senses by the unshakable feeling that something sure as hell seems to know what it\u2019s doing.<\/p>\n

Just as the acceptance of rot and death sets in, the funnier things get. When all is done and said, my body, not my mind, was truly my destiny after all. ROFLMFAO.<\/p>\n

Sooner or later, we\u2019re all made aware of the \u00fcber-politics of the body. The real deal that\u2019s never stopped churning away down in the engine room is the physical reality of our marvelous, mysterious, meat-puppet bodies in all their accident-waiting-to-happen splendor. Of course, splendor isn\u2019t the word that leaps to mind when the average hapless 12- or 13-year-old hears and feels that first all-consuming full-body \u201cuh oh\u201d that marks what the happy-talkers love to romanticize with commencement-speech rhetoric as \u201cthe entry to womanhood\u201d or some other shiny, sugared-up BS. Maybe they mean well, and figure that such a euphemism sounds so much better than \u201c40 years of blood, sweat, and depression bordering on occasional madness.\u201d<\/p>\n

Of course, again at the back end of the long road that is the tyranny of reproductive biology, the colorful language folk start up with their whiny crap about feeling less like a woman. Hey, for starters, we only get old if we\u2019re lucky! Can we let the logic of that sink in, sisters? Yeah, you\u2019re not going to be taking home any more little bundles of joy from the hospital, and maybe you won\u2019t be getting quite as many lascivious glances from the males of the species (if you were ever the type to get lots of those), but guess what? You\u2019re free, goddesses! No more \u201ctime of the month\u201d or \u201ccurse,\u201d no more \u201con the rag\u201d with all its attendant hassles, no more \u201criding the cotton pony\u201d… in fact, take a minute to stand in the winner\u2019s circle as the cotton pony is led out to pasture, for good.<\/p>\n

Menopause is the victory lap over the curse of being born female!<\/p>\n

You can bet that a realist like moi isn\u2019t here to take up your time pretending that menopause is a walk in the park. I\u2019ve heard that close to a third of women find menopause to be, at worst, a temporary and fairly inconsequential passage. To those women, I\u2019d like to say: congratulations, and I hate you! My experience was a raw and often torturous ordeal. And about the only two factors on the upside were the just-mentioned no-more-periods, and also the chance to occasionally pitch a major, flaming bitchfest without being (or needing to be) sure that it was my biological transition and not just me being myself in high gear.<\/p>\n

Sometimes, as the months whip past now, like telephone poles from the window of a bullet train, I continue to realize how much of my life I spent firmly under the thumb of Mother Nature, that inscrutable Boss Lady. I can still hear my biological clock ticking, but it\u2019s a calmer rhythm. Without being one of those happy-talking, sugar-coating types I can\u2019t stand, I just have to say it\u2019s so much easier living on this side of menopause, even with my high-mileage body.<\/p>\n

On the far side of that long passage, I\u2019m sailing on much calmer seas. I\u2019m not exclusively under the flag of any of the titles that womanhood bestows on those who choose (or are pushed into) the familiar roles: mother, grandmother, wife. Although I am, of course, a mother and a grandmother, which is a stone-cold blast.<\/p>\n

My family is close, but I have more me time\u2014there, I said that too! And what do I do with some of the time I don\u2019t spend being whipped around by the desperate process of staving off the appearance of aging and all the rest of the crap we\u2019re sold 24\/7? For one thing, I meditate, and for another, I think. Let me elaborate (after I meditate, and then think for a bit). Ah, OK, I\u2019m in full Crone mode now.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Depending on who\u2019s defining the word \u201ccrone,\u201d it can be a really wonderful gem of language. Crone got saddled with the role of synonym for hag, an old grizzled woman who\u2019s often bitchy at best, malicious at worst: the sinister, old, gossipy type who sometimes had magical or supernatural associations. Luckily, intelligent women, and some men, have begun returning the word to its rightful definition: an experienced, mature woman who\u2019s arrived on the north shore of the raging seas of this largely corrupt planet.<\/p>\n

We\u2019ve run the gauntlet and we stand, battered, bruised, and perhaps even worse, some of us, but we\u2019re consciously here and mostly intact.<\/p>\n

And, with a little luck, we have some time to affect things. Some sources cite Crone as the third stage of goddess formation: Maiden, Mother, and Crone. Well, I like the goddess part, but I don\u2019t mean to insult or diminish women who aren\u2019t mothers. In fact\u2014after holding the world up to the light and subjecting it to a quick exam I call \u201cDo the math!\u201d\u2014I\u2019m here to say, we could use a lot more women who don\u2019t become mothers of their own offspring, but instead Mother the world in a more expansive way\u2014and help to alleviate some of the misery and need of countless millions of people who are here already.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

But, let\u2019s get past the idea of things we have to do, breathe a sigh of relief, and remember that there\u2019s probably more time to do things we want to do. Form or nurture a few good and real friendships, and silently observe the world. You don\u2019t need a young athletic body or piles of money to read some of the world\u2019s great books; or to soak up brilliant music and art; or to grow something beautiful (and edible?) in a little garden spot. May your uterus remain relatively undisturbed during these, your glorious turban years!<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

* ***
\nDonna Henes is the author of The Queen of My Self: Stepping into Sovereignty in Midlife<\/em>.<\/a> She offers counseling and upbeat, practical and ceremonial guidance for individual women and groups who want to enjoy the fruits of an enriching, influential, purposeful, passionate, and powerful maturity. Consult the MIDLIFE MIDWIFE\u2122<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The Queen welcomes questions concerning all issues of interest to women in their mature years. Send your inquiries to thequeenofmyself@aol.com<\/a>.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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