Feel: The journey

Strike up the band, pour the bubbly (Synergy Divine Grape kombucha for me, please), and fire up Twitter ... it's official. I am now a Crone.

Nope, I'm not being sarcastic. I've sort of been looking forward to entering this final stage of my life ever since I went through chemotherapy and learned that I would--at least temporarily--stop menstruating. I did, and I felt ... well, the same way I did when I was one of the first girls to start in fourth grade, essentially leaving my Maiden years behind. I know some people look at menopause as an ending, but I see a beginning. So I was a little sad when my period returned shortly after my treatments stopped--even though they were more regular than they had ever been (and my oncologist explained that I might still enter my real menopause early).

Let me clarify--I'm not at all connecting with the definitions of Crone you'll find when you Google the term. I don't consider myself "a cruel or ugly old woman," or "withered" (ouch!). Rather, I'm grooving on these words from Women Living in Community:

"A woman in her crone years is in a position to influence others. She is the embodiment of feminine wisdom. This archetype has been repressed for far too long but women today are embracing the crone and living their values."

Amen to that.

Now don't get me wrong ... the last several weeks have been a whirlwind. I realized I hadn't opened my Period Tracker app in months, I learned the new brown splotch on the back of my right hand is a "spot of wisdom" (love you, Dr. Treloar), and I ordered progressive lenses for my vintage eyeglass frames just this afternoon. MIA hormones have left me with some surprising body changes as I moved on from my Mother phase, but I've also been reveling in my (mostly) clear skin and--what's this?--a new, freer attitude. 

So, sorry, Merriam-Webster. I'm going to drive my happy yellow Jeep down the road of possibilities with a smile on my face and a song in my heart (and, of course, a wave for you passing Wranglers). I'm energized by the long open road of the final third of my life ahead of me, despite the unexpected curves along the way.