hope

It’s been three years since ‘the event‘. You know, the one that changed me, moved me into a place of sadness and hopelessness; the one that forced me to re-think everything. No, I’m not being dramatic, I really did have to re-think everything.

Three years.

At times it seemed the pain of what happened would never go away, that the legacy of that moment would always be with me. And you know what? It is. There is a huge legacy of sadness that I had to deal with – even now I still have moments of “what if” and “if only”. That’s normal.  I just had to realize how normal it is.

As someone who really has led a blessed life, losing my ability to choose really shook me. I wasn’t prepared to deal with all the emotions and the ongoing issues that it raised. I’m a get-over-it-already kind of girl. I don’t hold grudges, I don’t hold anger, I don’t hold any kind of negativity at all. I don’t forget, but I don’t allow things to linger, I never have. To take a moment, or few moments, to feel self-pity is not something I like to do.

So being forced to face something life changing threw me. I wasn’t prepared to deal with it long term. At least not the emotions of it all. Obviously not having ovaries or a uterus will effect me forever – physically. But emotionally? No one was more surprised than I at the fall out.

I knew the anniversary was coming, but it didn’t have the same pull this year, the same immediacy. It came, I remembered, and I was prepared for something. Anything. But there was nothing – at least nothing bad. It was acknowledged, and I moved on.

And I found myself in a place of hope. A place that is good.

There are things I face everyday that I shouldn’t have to. No woman my age should be three years post-menopausal. No woman should ever have the right to choose taken away. Neither of those things are good, period (pardon the pun).

But what is good is that I’m settled into this new life, this way of living that isn’t dictated by 28 day cycles. No more wondering if this is month we’ll get caught. No more cramps or mood swings or any of the other yucky stuff you ladies know what I’m talking about. There is a freedom that comes from being in this place – a confidence and a sense of well-being. I can travel without counting days, I can wear white whenever I want. Finding happiness in the little things has moved me through this past year.

And I woke that morning, the anniversary morning, at peace.

Peace. And hope.

Things are what they are, they can’t be changed. Railing against them hasn’t worked for me, but working with them does. I’m redefining what post-menopausal is – I’m in the best physical shape of my life and I might just be the only post-menopausal woman at the beach this summer with a 6 pack of abs. I’m not slowing down, settling in, or letting this get in my way. In fact, I want to change the face of early menopause and remove the shame from the process. I want to challenge the stereotypes and be more than what I’m supposed to be. I want to inspire, to be inspired, and to grow here, in a place that is different than where I thought I would be, but better than many others.

Hope was an unexpected gift this year. And I’m grateful.

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