#GAIA RISING

When Your Eggs Dry Up

All the %@#!s go with them — it’s glorious

photo of the author with some of her fellow beautiful and prickly beings

The older I get — the less I care about what people think about me. It’s liberating. It’s powerful. It’s about time.

Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve looked forward to the day I get to have a mane of bright silver hair. I used to lay out at the pool (oh, the ’80s) and smile really hard — so that the lines on my face would be smile lines, not frowny ones.

I have been waiting for this time of my life for decades! I am stoked it’s finally here.

I’m not here to serve your purpose

I didn’t come here to let other people’s opinions shape my experience of being human. And though I went through modern womanhood, and had my share of wobbling through my own perception of self, I stayed pretty true to my soul. I never really forgot to love myself.

I don’t know why. This isn’t a humblebrag. But the tiny voice inside of me stayed audible as I went through school, my first marriage, childbearing, my current marriage, and the recent tumultuous years of social upheaval. I never stopped listening to HER.

And now that I’m 3 years into menopause, all the filters that tried to block that little inner voice are being ripped away. I…