Self Care
On welcoming this season of life with grace and gratitude.
I have decided with pride that I won’t color my grays, which are coming in like tinsel, shining white against the dark of my hair.
No, I won’t color my grays; I will age gracefully.
But I have also decided that feeling this way — wracked by fatigue, joint pain, mood swings and irritability, night sweats, constant stressors, blinking cursors, brain fog, imbalanced hormones and imbalanced power structures, dis-ease and disease, an ongoing bellyache, and an incurable heartache — is no way to live.
And so, morning and night, I silently bless myself, first on the cushion and then with food, eight ounces of water, and the intentional swallowing of a handful of medicine and magic.
May I be healthy.
May I have unfettered and ongoing access to all of my faculties.
May my heart remain tender — but not my breasts.
May my daily intake of irritation not exceed the medicated and meditated capacity of my thinking mind.
May my youth not escape me, by way of the alleged benefits of Irish sea moss and collagen peptides.
May I avoid all feelings of bloating, nausea, and any other gastrointestinal discomforts.
(Unrelated: May I sparkle from within with a Divine luster.)
May I harness an indefatigable energy. Without the jitters.
May I be immune to allergens and irritants — and while we’re at it, misogynists and tyrants.
May I sleep soundly and coolly, and dream gently.
May I welcome change with aplomb, with a modicum of understanding, even as I attempt to stave it off.
May I enter into this season of my life with acceptance, compassion, humor, balance, and ease.
May I age with grace, and more importantly, may I age with gratitude. Because aging with access is the gift of too few.
Because there is no handbook called “Perimenopause for the Highly Sensitive Female-Bodied Cancerian,” and because my own embodiment of senses and emotions for the last year have ebbed and flowed and swelled well beyond their banks, I offer these blessings to all of you navigating this particular season with empathy and deep compassion.
And I welcome your musings, your advice, and any blessings you’d like to add to our list.
May you be happy.
May you be healthy.
May you be loved.
And, dear reader, may you be at peace — in your body and in our world.