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when change is strange


When I began writing this post, I was concerned about alienating some of my readers. I laughed to myself. The idea of actually having readers seemed alien to me, and at the same time, exactly what I came here for. To share the connection of the ordinary and extraordinary moments. I was tempted to define who this post was for and decided against it. The most honest times in the writing, and in life itself really, are when we are unconcerned with how we are perceived. I write what is at the very center of my being. Right now, that being is changing. One of my very first posts on my blog was You are allowed to change and the significance I extracted from that message on my 44th birthday.

It has been an unnerving reality in my life that the message usually has more to give. I’ve come to expect the layers, the unravelling and the corrections that the Divine has in store for me.

This is one I didn’t expect.

I found myself in strange circumstances this fall. Everything around me changing. It’s beautiful. And everything inside of me changing and it’s scary as hell. I know that whenever I have to really talk myself into something, like getting off of the couch, it’s pretty bad.

I was excited for 44 and was convinced that this is my year to shine. Double numbers hold a special significance for me. So I was mildly perplexed when I was 1, 2 and then 7 days late. All of a sudden I was faced with two very different and seemingly conflicting possibilities. I was pregnant or I was manifesting the first and most obvious beginnings of the change. Well, I’m not pregnant. And from that moment I’ve been on quite a ride. I’ll spare you the details. I’ll just say that it felt monumental. I wanted some answers but I couldn’t bring myself to even order a book off of Amazon because it had the word Menopause in the title. You are allowed to change was freaking mocking me. It felt hard. I felt a deep sadness. A constant since I was 12 years old was beginning to deconstruct itself and I felt displaced in my own skin.

I am a late bloomer in many ways and I have resisted “acting my age” for as long as I can remember. I am a quiet rebel. I don’t want to be defined or contained. In my own way, I have carved out a life that feels personal and unique. I am uncomfortable living any other truth. That makes me sensitive and hard to live with sometimes. But it is how I keep my balance. Now it seems like I can’t even live with myself. How am I going to get thought this?

I’m tired. My body feels tired. My mind feels tired. As I am badgering myself for not making it off the couch the tears start rolling down and that voice that has taken me 44 years to hear, says You are allowed to rest. You are allowed to grieve whatever this is too. Haven’t you learned anything? You are allowed to honor yourself. It is once I let my cheeks get wet that I instantly see the beauty of it all. Of the leaves changing. Of knowing some parts of you leave and some parts come back. Some parts of you leave and never come back. We are given at each and every moment the opportunity to recieve ourselves again. I looked up as I was writing at that very moment to see the buds on my Christmas cactus turning a vibrant pink. My scraggly old cactus that I hardly water will in a few weeks be beautiful and whole and something entirely new to behold. I wonder if she knows. I wonder if she is aware that her energy is about to shift in order to bloom again.

I am usually moved to tears in mediation, feeling the full breath of my connection to a deep source of love, guidance and divinity. Other moments, well, I am moved to tears that my skill set in dealing with life in general escapes me. Anger and discontent rise up in me like a big wave and it feels painful just to take a breath. What is happening to me? My energy crashes and I want to pack my bags and head back to India on my own. And then the very next day you couldn’t tear me away from the life I am living. And it’s just the beginning.

I never made it to yoga that day but I did go outside for a walk. Nothing helps going through a change like realizing you are always in the midst of change. As I thought about what lies ahead and my mind began telling a story of what it all means, I heard that voice again. Do not depend on your weakness for justification. Do not use it as an excuse. Look at it as if it’s your own sacred passageway into your strength. Do not apologize for being a woman.

I look back at my teens and early twenties so obsessed with not having perfect skin and not being beautiful.  I look back at that girl now and my heart breaks a little bit. She was complicated and deep and stunning inside and out. Often times, she drank too much in order to feel less self-conscious. But she also gave me this gift.

I will never again give myself the opportunity to look back and say I wish I would have realized how beautiful I was. Changes, imperfections and all. It gives me a strange kind of comfort. It gives me a place to exist on a continuum that is unapologetically unknown.

Thank you for reading and for letting me share!

If you want to continue to connect, please sign up for email. You will only receive a weekly post. That’s it!

And if you are going through any of the above changes, my dear friend Heather Serody has a gorgeous blog Big Girl Life at where she offers an enormous wealth of resources for thriving in mid-life.

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