Words are so powerful. I guess that’s nothing new. What’s interesting is that words that you have heard all your life suddenly take on new meaning, or become of great importance, at a pivotal point in your life.
Like many women in their 50’s, I have worked very hard to accept my limitations, view my idiosyncrasies as assets, and my age as a gift. It hasn’t been easy. A lot of healthy tears have been shed.
I have this new found hunger for life, especially my athletic self. I am drawn to try all kinds of things that I have had no interest in before. Many of these endeavors have, surprisingly, become passions of mine. I have gotten bumped, bruised and even broken, on one occasion, but still the hunger exists.
I get very frustrated with the fact that my body is 53 and not 23. Repeatedly I ask myself ‘why didn’t I do all this when I was younger?’ The answer is always the same ( darn it all ). I didn’t make time for myself. It makes me mad.
In a recent visit to my acupuncturist, a gifted healer if ever there was one, I voiced how tired I am of trying to be brave, trying to get better at sports I’ve just learned. I am especially tired of trying to create this new identity afforded me by menopause, for it has not been a smooth and easy transition. I expected words of sympathy, for he is a very sympathetic man. Instead, he said “You are such a warrior.”
At first I was taken aback. A warrior? ‘That’s a rather masculine epithet.’ I thought. ‘Not me.’ I thought. Uncomfortable.
Two weeks later, I am snowboarding with my son, and husband, at Jackson Hole Resort, Wyoming. My son’s are so used to my physical exploits they give little...actually NO thought to the fact that I am not 23. It’s rather intimidating, and always feels like a huge expectation that needs to be filled. I guess I give the impression that I can do anything. So, they take me everywhere. It has been an interesting mix of bonding and terror.
It should not have surprised me then to find myself on the crest of a mountain (elevation 6000 ft), where the air is so thin a mouse couldn’t have caught a breath. I’m trying to snowboard. My son and husband have easily managed the terrain and are poised on a precipice like Greek Gods surveying their universe. I, unfortunately, had veered a mere 2 inches to the right of their path and was now sliding backwards down a steep mountainside. All I could think was ‘Damn you men! Damn you for being stronger, heartier, better! Damn you!!!’ And, I started to cry.
But, before one tear (ok...maybe 3 or 4) could leak out - because now I’m also angry that I’m ‘crying like a girl’ those magic words came to me...”You are such a warrior.” And suddenly, I was. I said ‘I am a warrior’ to myself as I unbuckled my board, in fear of tumbling down the hill. ‘I am a warrior’ I said to myself as I held my board across my lap and scooched my way up to the lip where my God’s awaited. But, the most powerful moments was when I said it at the top, quietly, in my heart ‘I am a warrior.’
I wanted to shout it out to all the world. But mostly, I wanted to hear it really loudly, just for me ‘I am a woman AND I am a warrior. I did this. No one rescued me. It wasn’t pretty. But my woman’s body did it. And, I am proud.’
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