I am writing this imagining that I am sitting in circle with you, with my breath and nervous system sinking into the safety of a gathering of women in the woods. The regulation and relaxation that comes for me when women come together, safely held, as we are in the moment, to share and uncover deeper truths about ourselves, about humankind, about connection in all it’s forms.
Today, I am in deep.
Deep in processing. In wintering. In a cocoon induced by a breakdown. It is both a gift and an immense challenge. The only way to live through it seems to be to come very close in. To make it a practice to stay in my body at every opportunity even as my mind screams to pull me away. Is it part of the menopause initiation? Yes. Of that I am sure. In amongst the fog that conceals me and the clouds that surround my thinking mind there are occasional bursts of bright blue sky. Sharp moments of clarity that are gone as fast as they arrive. I see this clear sight as one of the gifts of menopause, like a candle flickering in a long dark tunnel underground, whispering in my ear “this way my love, follow me, I will never leave you”. If I can stay close enough in to listen to the whispers my course is set, I know what to do next, or more often what not to do. Often the guidance is to rest, sink back, slow down, STOP. Oh the agony of listening to that voice. Of hearing her so clearly. It scrapes every ounce of courage I have from the very bottom of the barrel to follow it.
Shedding my skin
Another sign of menopause I am certain, that tension between the woman I have been and the one I am becoming. Slowly shedding the skin that has put everyone else’s needs before my own, the skin that has had me pushing through, depleted, exhausted, on my knees and yet still managing to be a carer and a mother first. It seems that I no longer have a choice. As soon as I step back into the familiar grooves of my old behaviours by mind and my body break. Not in the way that they did when my nervous system did when it first broke down, thank goodness. That left me destroyed. Burnt to the ground. The archetypal moment of death. And I don’t use that term lightly, like us all I have lost many loved ones and lived through intense grief and loss. This was like that. I wanted oblivion. I wanted to be hospitalised and to assume the role of patient. I wanted to slip into someone else’s rules and routines, stay in bed, have meals delivered to me on a tray. And I wanted a needle full of something that would take the pain away, stop me feeling, bring me peace. I didn’t want to have to learn how to be someone new and yet someone who has always been me and who, at menopause, is unequivocal in her demand that now is the time. That I MUST make this journey deep into the heart of my being. That it is time to befriend and bring home all the lost parts of myself.
Death and rebirth
So, a month in, this is where I am still. Staying close in, attempting to go through this death without hope of rebirth, only knowing what the next step needs to be. In the silence I am hearing my inner voices so much more clearly. They shock me with how harsh I am to myself, how little these parts of me feel I deserve and how deeply they have been damaged in relationship. It is messy and uncomfortable. It freaks my family out completely. It is putting huge pressure on our family unit in a place where we don’t yet have those friends to call on when it all falls apart. And boy is it falling apart! Yet there is a grace to the process when I can remember to be still and quiet and really listen. There is that candle in the darkness. And there is a deeper lesson at play than I ever dared to imagine. In my yearning to be safe and held I have so often looked to another – a parent, partner or friend to be there for me. Oh how I yearn for that still. But in the not receiving it is a deeper invitation, to sink closer into myself, my soul. To allow myself to be closer to God and to remember how deeply I am loved just as I am, however I am.
Surrender and receive
Perhaps this is the ultimate lesson in this particular phase of my menopause journey, to surrender and receive. I know in my bones that I am being shaped by a force far greater than myself, and occasionally I get glimpses of how I might truly of service in the world as I emerge from my cocoon, but mostly it is dark, close in. Baby steps towards healing the patterns of generations of women (and perhaps men). Staying right where I am as I attempt to love all the parts of me that want to pull me anywhere but here. Yet here is where I am. There is a victim story there for the taking if I choose to inhabit it, or I can choose to honour the magnificent transformation that is menopause. To give it the place in my life that it both demands and deserves. To let everything else fall away, shatter into tiny pieces perhaps. All I know is that I cannot put life back together into the same shape as it was before this happened to me. The impact on those I love is enormous. It may even be catastrophic. This is my greatest fear and yet it is also another invitation, to trust them more than ever and to trust in something greater than myself.
If my story speaks to you and you’re feeling the full power of descent in your menopause journey then you can check out my offerings here. Together we can safely explore your experience in a deeply held, sacred space that meets you just as you are.
Recent Comments