Have you ever sat so fully in the moment, teetering on a sharp blade, fully aware of being so profoundly present- wondering if you are living a parallel storyline or path not predicted, not destined, but accidentally claimed?

The world is chaotic and painful, glorious and terrifying, and large- yet each of us spin around our own heart centres- trying to figure ourselves out and how we fit into this play.  I find myself, sitting here, wondering, feeling, not fitting in, not identifying with my age group.  I chew on and ponder aging, imagination, freedom- on being age 21 at age 54.  Being a menopausal millennial.  

Serendipitously, my daughter recommended the following podcast as she exclaimed, “Mom- this is so YOU!”

And it is weird.  Now that my kids are grown and parents have passed, I find that I am back to age 21, starting fresh.  21 was the fork in the road and I made a decision, took a direction that was terrifying and glorious and took me through the blood and guts of life with intense responsibilities that didn’t allow me to experience the twenties years of exploring and trying independence.

Being 21 at 54.

This is not about anti-aging or mourning the young body- oh god know- no, no, not these achy bones and sagging skin that I love- haha… I am definitely physically middle-aged!  Menopause demands humor.  And creates a character in the mirror that you recognize- not as yourself but as your parents.

No, this is about emotionally, lifestyle-y, identifying more as a millenial than as an Oprah-loving woman in her mid 50’s.  I am a menopausal millennial.  

Living as a creative as if there is no other choice… Shedding self-imposed guilt.  I am new- new to this independence, new to choice.  No longer the rock and the glue trying to hold it together.  My metaphoric skin is shed and I am feeling anew.  Drinking out of vintage cups.  Intertwined in the past, present and future.

So yes, I feel as if I am a twenty something.  With a science degree and post secondary up the yin yang.  No benefits.  No dental.  No car.  Not owning.  Living day to day.  Hand to mouth.  Nose in book.  Always online.  Collecting.  Inspecting.  Investigating.  Inquiring.  Demanding to live creatively.  Exploring new possibilities.  Laughing too loudly.  Moving too fast.  Thinking outside the box.  Living DIY.   Sharing process.  Living with hope, with anxiety, with the UP, the DOWN, the sideways, the prickling joy of why not, invisibly oriented, demanding freedom, demanding identity, a survivor, scarred, alive with possibilities and choice.  DARING.  And now very very hopeful.

I’ve lived out my melancholy youth.  I don’t give a fuck anymore what’s behind me, or what’s ahead of me.  I’m healthy.  Incurably healthy.  No sorrows, no regrets.  No past, no future.  The present is enough for me.  Day by day.  Today! ― Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer

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