50 Things I’ve Learned in my Half Century of Life

Half a Century!  Well, when you put it that way it seems SOOOOOOO, ummm, O*L*D.  Ahhh, but some time ago I refused to use 2 words simultaneously — “OLD” and “AGE”, so let’s re-phrase, shall we?  How about this:

Half a Century = 50 years YOUNG = Seasoned = Wise = Experienced = Slightly Tired = Occasionally Rickety = Finally Uninterested in what others think about me = Intolerant of Bullsh*t = Fabulously Free to BE!

So here goes … and these are in no particular order – simply free-flowing thought …

I’ve learned that –

1. The sun on my skin rejuvenates me and fills me with happiness.
2. Add warm air to that sun and there’s no holding back the full-face smiles.
3. Life cannot be scripted with expectations of how things “should” go.
4. Writing is my ultimate form of expression.
5. Attention and flattery come cheap, and I’m “with it” enough to see through it.
6. Anyone can say they are my friend.  Only a few truly are.
7. The ocean, in all its beauty, mystery and awe is where I am most “home”.
8. True devotion costs a lot.
9. Passion cannot be learned or forced.  It is innate.
10. People CAN change.  It’s just a matter of whether they really, truly want to.
11. Healthy FEAR keeps me from danger.  Unhealthy FEAR keeps me from living.
12. Music, especially lyrics, connects with me on a very deep level.  Know my music.  Know me.
13. Exercise channels all the toxins, the pent up frustrations, anger, the confusion, the pain and allows a very specific release.  I always, always, always feel better afterwards.
14. I don’t NEED to walk to the beat of anyone’s drum but my own.
15. Aging is a privilege.  The alternative is  … well, 6 feet below ground.
16. There’s no perfect parent, much less me.  But somehow my 3 grown children have become decent human beings and an asset to society.  Maybe I should pat myself on the back a little.
17. Life NEVER turns out how you thought (Note #3 on this list).
18. Forgiveness is less about the other person’s wellbeing and more about my own.
19. Showing mercy, grace and compassion is my ultimate kindness to those around me.
20. I can try to be all things to all people … until I can’t.
21. Giving my ALL to being disciplined is hard, hard work and requires learning how to say NO to myself and to others on the daily.
22. Having an identity outside of “house and home” is vital.
23. People don’t always have to agree with or understand the things that make me tick.  And I shouldn’t shine any dimmer just because they don’t “get me”.
24. To learn how to make sacrifices is the key to discipline.
25. I find freedom in a schedule because I know what to expect and when to expect it.  I know when I have to be ON and when I can turn OFF for a spell.
26. Rest and recovery are imperative for longevity.
27. I get thirsty when I drink more water, not the other way around.
28. Life goes on, especially for others … no matter what I may be going through.
29. Quitting on myself is absolutely, positively NOT an option.
30. No matter what, someone is always watching and therefore my actions or non-actions are always an example to someone.
31. There are some things that only my girlfriends know about me – and they usually come with dark chocolate when it’s time to talk.
32. It’s ok to be a total badass in the gym and turn around and demonstrate feminine finesse on the dance floor.
33. Short hair doesn’t mean “un-feminine”.  And what an antiquated, small-minded view.  The definition of “un-feminine” is male body parts and I don’t have those, so …
34. So many people have opinions of things or places or situations they’ve never experienced.  I need not worry what they think.
35. My business is about the relationships I build with every person with whom I come in contact.  Once my business starts to move away from that and becomes something else, I may as well close my doors.
36. I don’t know everything.  Nor do I pretend to.  But I’ll research to find an answer!
37. Difficulty in life is no respecter of persons, even if you dot your “i’s” and cross your “t’s”.
38. People make time for the people and the things they truly want to.
39. My excuses do not give me a pass to quit.
40. Get to really know someone before formulating a wrong opinion of them.
41. Being ethical in my business, even to my own demise, is a top priority.
42. Change doesn’t always have to be scary and embracing it may make the passage easier to navigate.
43. What they say is true, not you, me or anyone can out-exercise poor eating/drinking habits.
44. Whimsy, fun, laughter should ALWAYS, ALWAYS, ALWAYS be a part of life.
45. And if they make you laugh, like split your sides, tears down your face laugh — they are worth keeping.
46. Hiding behind being busy doesn’t make whatever I’m hiding go away.
47. Show up.  Every day.
48. It does me no favors to play small, to dim my light, or not stand firm for what I believe.
49. My faith in the God who loves me is integral to who I am now or ever hope to be.
50. No matter what, I’ve learned to GET BACK UP, to keep fighting, striving.  Knock me down — I won’t stay down by choice.  If I can’t get up right away, in my mind I’m standing tall nonetheless.

 

 

 

 

Diary of a Mad, Menopausal Woman

Just yesterday I was “normal”, whatever that means.  But truly, I was.  I am sure of it, I think.  I mean … it feels like it was just yesterday, right?  C’mon foggy brain, you can do this.  You can remember.  Perhaps “normal” is or was or should be overrated anyway.  Does it even matter?  YES!  YES it does matter.  Hence this diary.  Stay on task foggy brain.  Seriously.  You can do this.

Let’s throw out a few definitions before we begin.

Diary:  the telling of a tale.  To admit to something, come to a realization, to be enlightened enough or have that “something” be important enough to write it down for the entire universe to see. (OK … melodramatic and yes, quite daunting)

Mad:  as in angry, yes, but also crazy, freaked out, disturbed, maniacal, borderline psycho and quite often a complete nutcase swinging from the vines of emotionalism

Menopausal:  the bane of aging, the bewitching of body, mind and spirit, the unfair continuum of the curse of menses that follows us to our graves (and perhaps drags us there kicking and screaming in our maddened state of existence)

Woman:  Simply put … NOT man.  Doubtful a man could even handle any of the above.

As I was saying, just yesterday I was normal.  And then, I was not.  Just like that.  I blinked, snapped my fingers, turned my head and “Normal” snuck out the door.  That’s ok.  I am not one who strives to be like everyone else anyway.  So, in an attempt to embrace my un-normalness, I reach for that proverbial superhero cape (it’s a deep, sensuous red in my mind), sling it around my shoulders, bend over slightly due to the new found pain in my hip (bone loss perhaps?) and don that sucker like nobody’s business.  I stand there in my closet with my hands on my hips … deep in my own super hero imagination.  Why did I come in here?  There was something specific I came looking for.  It wasn’t clothing or shoes, I’m pretty sure.  I drop my arms from their best ever Wonder Woman place on my hips (Ouch! That right hip still hurts).   To preserve brain power, I walk out of the closet none the wiser as to why I entered it in the first place.  Foggy Brain = 1.  Normal Me = 0.  I lose again.

The numbers on the clock at night burn a hole in my head.  I watch them like a creepy peeping Tom … eyes wide open and a weird look on my face.  Interesting, those digital numbers.  Do you know which numbers on a digital clock have the same amount of lighted lines as the number itself?  I raise my hand as if I am a 1st grader …. “Oh Oh, I know the answer.  Pick me!  Pick me!”  The number 4 and the number 5.  Aha!  All that creepy staring is good for something!

 I watch the clock as the 2, as in A.M., turns into a 3.  Only a couple hours left to attempt sleep.  I give up trying.  My zombie self rises as if it is coming up out of the depths of the Earth.  Another all-nighter, which also means another wrecked day of walking around in a daze.  Thank you, Menopause.  This means so much.

Are there calories in the air?  If I sniff something delectable will I gain weight?  I’m a trainer, a fitness trainer.  I’ve worked hard to maintain a lean, muscular physique.  Not to worry … I still have it despite the capital M in menopause.  If you know me personally, don’t roll your eyes when you read this, but my body is changing.  No, it’s not drastic (yet) but I can tell, and quite frankly that’s all that matters.  Primary areas of concern that have been affected by the capital M:  abdominal, hips, thighs, butt.  Instead of being the separate, wonderful entities that they are (ahem, or rather, WERE), they have begun to appear amalgamated into more of an amorphous single unit.  It’s like they each lifted their Power Rangers rings, fist bumped them together while screaming, “Power Rangers Unite!”  Each area that has been affected by the capital M has brought along a suitcase for the journey … filled with those 2 sexy figure killers that start with the letter C.  Cellulite and Crepey skin.  Again, Lady M, job well done.  This sucker punch is the loveliest of it’s kind.  I applaud you.

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Some of the running dialogue in my head … and “M”s sneering responses … making a mockery of what has become of me (at her own manipulative hand.  I hate her!)

Me: They were here just a minute ago … my reading glasses!  M: They are on your head.

Me: My keys.  Not in my purse.  Not on the counter.  I’m late!  M: Haha!  They are in the ignition.

Me: Sure, I can meet you for coffee!  M: No. You have a job, remember?  

Me: Let me put my shoes on real quickly.  M: Be careful.  You now fall over standing on one foot.

Me: I can’t wait to go running.  M: Do you hear that clicking sound?  Is it your knees, spine, hips or all of the above?  And … make sure there’s a restroom always close by!

Me:  How old am I?  Oh, I’m 45.  M:  No you’re not.  You’re 47.  Don’t be so flighty.

Me: There was a point to this story.  M:  Yes, and you’ve forgotten it like you do many things.

Me: I love you but I want to murder you.  M: Mood swings, have we?

Me: The food on my plate looks blurry.  M: Reading glasses.  They are on top of your head.

Me: Please just leave me alone!!!!  M:  I thought you said you were lonely. 

Me:  I want ______ (fill in the blank).  No I don’t.  Yes I do.  M:  If made it so that you have no idea what you want anymore.

Me:  I’m just so tired.  M: You just woke up.  I love we get to spend all night hanging out!

Me:  Give me my coffee and no one gets hurt!  M: You are very serious and could end up on the news this evening.  Not to worry, I’m responsible but I’ll let you take the fall.

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It’s blazing hot in here.  I remember watching my grandmother pick up anything that she could use as a makeshift fan, wave that fan around her face and say, in her sweet, Southern twang, “Ewwwww, Lordy, Lordy.  I’m havin’ me a tropical heat waaa-aave!”   Remember the sexy red super hero cape I slung around my shoulders?  Well, it disguises itself.  It’s actually the Villain, not the Super Hero.  It takes the form of boiling heat that creeps up my back, waving its hot fiery edges up my spine.  Once it gets to about shoulder height, the cape of fire wraps itself around the front of my body, hovers there long enough to make me miserable and then swooshes up my face, leaving sweat all over my brow and escaping like a thief in the night out of my skull.  I’m sure that my eyes have turned to flaming hot laser beams and if I opened my mouth, dragon flames would exit from within and scorch anyone or anything in sight.  M …. go on with your bad, hot self, because of course, we know you will, especially after we’ve put on make up to cover up the strange skin tone we now have and are giving a presentation in front of a room full of people.  Lady M …. or shall I call you “Your Hotness” this is not remotely funny, but always ill-timed and has mean girl tendencies.  I have a mind to strangle you once and for all, but it just makes me too hot to think about following through.

I’m freezing!  I need a blanket.  A thick, heavy blanket.  Yes.  I realize it is the dead of summer.  But you aren’t me, so shut your trap and bring me that blanket before I murder you.  And be sure to keep one eye open while you are sleeping too, because you are just under my skin all day, every day and I just can’t take you anymore.  You would think that any of the excess adipose tissue (look it up, people.  I’m not explaining it to you) that the capital M has brought into my life would help insulate me.  No indeed.  It’s not going to work in my favor at all …. ever.  So I remain cold.  Like, old lady cold.  Like, grandma wrapped up in a sleeping bag (okay, there’s a name for those blankets, but for the life of me I can’t think of it), wearing thick wool socks PLUS slippers and a cute little hat she knitted herself, sitting in her cloth chair that is sitting in front of a floor heater cold.  FREEZING!  But all I have to do is wait a few minutes and the sexy, red Villain Cape will appear and burn me to smithereens.

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Do I have to get out of bed?  Yes, yes, I know I have to wash the sheets because there’s a sweat ring that may become permanent if left unattended.  But I really don’t think I have it in me today to even greet the world, much less these people who happen to live in the same house as I.  Who are these people anyway?  Not even coffee has the power in its “drip, drip” melody or its sweet, nutty scent to drag me up out of the abyss, pull me into the shower and the whole rigmarole it takes to be presentable to the world and to these people.  I’ve decided I’m not adulting today, or mommying, or wifeying, or trainering, or friending, or Mimi-ing.  (oh yeah … I forgot to tell you that I am, indeed, a grandmother).  The world seems like a dim, dreary, black hole place today.  I just want to stay under the covers, that is, until the sexy red Villain Cape attacks me again, and again, and again.

I don’t know why.  Stop asking me!  No, I’m not all right.  OK, maybe I am just fine but I’m pretty sure the world is coming to an end.  The sadness is overcoming me.  Tears.  Tears.  Tears.  I couldn’t get the top off of the jar of peanut butter today.  Tears.  The World is coming to an end!  I think I can see the imprint of my belly button in this tank top.  Tears.  The World is coming to an end!  We ran out of Puffs tissues; the drinking glass slipped out of my hand and broke into a million, zillion, kabillion pieces; I exercised 3 days this week instead of 5; I get hot flashes while I’m trying to enjoy a bath; this TV commercial about dogs in shelters is just way too much for me to handle … will no one rescue them?  Tears.  Tears.  Tears.  The World is coming to an end!   Menopause, I have to admit, your flare for the dramatic is somewhat admirable.  Always in character, you are.

You must die.  There’s nothing more to be said or done.  (Dear Reader, do not get your panties in a bundle with the vulnerability I risk to tell you how I FEEL when you know good and well that often times you feel the exact same way).  I know that murder is frowned upon, but desperate times make for desperate measures.  Menopause has decreed that in most cases, murder is acceptable.  Perhaps you are the idiot driver who nearly pushed me off the side of the road.  You must die.  Or maybe you are the young, dumb 20-something waltzing around in the gym (like you even know what you are doing or could ever take me in an arm wrestling match).  You must die.  Oh, you are the teeny tiny clasp on my favorite bracelet and you decide to break causing the millions of beads in my favorite bracelet to scatter themselves across the globe, never to be found again?  Yes, you too must die.  Family members?  Well, I’d have to think long and hard about your demise at my own bare hands.  I may allow you to live, though my rage is piping hot in this very moment, so I’d steer clear if I were you.  The squeaky door hinge that for the life of me sounds louder and louder and more annoying by the second.  I will single-handedly break down that door, rip it from its noisy hinge and murder it on site.  You must die.  And I alone shall be the last woMAN standing!

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Here’s a bit of advice …. you may want to tread lightly around the Mad Menopausal Woman.  I would if I were you.  She loves you yet loathes you all at the same time.  Her life is upside down and she knows full well how cray cray she is (gentle hint here to NOT remind her!).  She’ll get it figured out, at least, I know I will, because I’m a fighter like that.  Eventually I’ll take control of all the things I CAN control and I will learn to accept the things I cannot.  Oh, I’m not there yet on the “accepting” part.  (Note the previous “You must die” paragraph above).  There’s still too much fight in me (and rage, and angst, and deep seeded anger, and sadness, and exhaustion, and sleepless nights, and moments of lucidity surrounded by moments of NON lucidity, and confusion mixed with clear headed confidence, hopelessness mixed with resolve for experiencing brighter days ahead).  Let’s just say it’s all a work in progress.  Best to ride the waves alongside me, but mind you, I’d keep a little distance.  Please be patient and kind even though I am NOT always such.  Don’t badger me and MOST IMPORTANTLY, Do Not, by any means laugh at me or make a mockery of how I feel.  (Note again the “You must die” paragraph above).  Love me through the good, the bad and the ugly until we make it safely to the other side.

So until further notice, I will disrespectfully remain yours truly …

~Mad, Menopausal Woman

Bypassing -vs- Passing By

NPC Warrior Classic Figure Competitor, Colorado

Ever wonder how some people seem to have off-the-charts discipline in their lives and others just can’t seem to pull it together if it killed them?  Maybe you are one of the Discipline Kings or Queens out there … leading the way, onward and upward!  Maybe you sit in a totally different camp, struggling with the focus and drive and energy it takes to simply get through the day without falling off the proverbial wagon.

I would dare say that in whichever camp you land, it took either a mindset shift to get you there or will take a mindset shift to get you out.  What do I mean?  Put simply, when push comes to shove and you are faced with that moment of truth — that very specific moment where you MUST decide whether to stick to the thing in which you are attempting a new discipline or give into that sloth on your shoulder that whispers in your ear to submit to your deep-down desire to NOT BE DISCIPLINED — when push comes to shove, do you BYPASS or do you PASS BY?

I understand that perhaps my opinion matters; perhaps it doesn’t.  Maybe you believe that I’m one of those Queens of Discipline and I don’t have struggles … that I’ve always been disciplined and will always remain disciplined.  Maybe you don’t know me at all and therefore what I have to say doesn’t change how you feel.  I can tell you from my own personal experience that Discipline, for me anyway, has come by trial and error, by failures, by continued effort, by intention rather than complacency.  It requires continuity of emotional energy and physical action plans and a “get back up”, “keep on keeping on” state of being.  Discipline hinges on my ability and determination to say NO to myself over and over and over again and to eliminate every obstacle (even those viable “excuses”) that crop up at the moment of truth.

So what do I mean when I ask about BYPASSING vs PASSING BY?  Let’s look first at the Passing By bit.  In my mind when I think of passing by I picture myself coming within close proximity of something, looking at it, considering it (taking it in – its shape, size, texture, color, how it appears in the light, what it means to me deep down in my soul), — CONSIDERING IT from all angles.  I’m looking at it directly, possibly staring, fixated.  All other things disappear for a split second and it’s just me and that thing.  Maybe I linger for a moment.  Perhaps I begin to long for it — whatever “it” is.  It’s close enough to engage all my senses:  taste, feel, smell, sound, see.  And in that moment of passing by, of getting up close and personal, I have a DECISION to make in the way of my DISCIPLINE.  Understand that there can be several of these “passing by” moments in a day.  Some of these moments occur of our own volition.  We CHOOSE to pass by something.  Other times we find ourselves passing by on accident … we just happened to be minding our business and suddenly we ended up in this particular place and time with this particular temptation (something that could easily derail our discipline).  And EVERY SINGLE TIME these passing by moments occur, there’s a confrontation with the path of discipline that I, you, have chosen for ourselves.  It’s the pivotal point.  What decision do I, you, WE make?  It is in these particular moments that we have to default to what the definition of Discipline is and what it takes to remain inside its realms (refer to paragraph above for a reminder about what it takes every day for ME to remain.)

Definition per Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary:  DISCIPLINE – Control that is gained by requiring that rules be obeyed.  A rule or system governing conduct or activity.  Self Control.  To impose order.  To train, develop and bring under control.

Passing by, especially if of our own volition, seems harmless.  What’s one little look gonna do?  Just a sniff … What’s so wrong with wishing for something, longing for it, pining after it?  Passing by allows for a potential catastrophic derailing, that’s what’s wrong with it.  It allows for disorder, a lack of self control (even fleeting).  It allows for emotions to govern the day rather than a conscious, well-planned and executed decision to govern our emotions.  Passing by is dangerous.  It is a chipping away at our resolve, especially if we find ourselves “passing by”, “strolling close to”, “tiptoeing” in enemy territory several times per day — even more so if we ALLOW ourselves.  Enemy territory?  Do I have to speak so dramatically?  YES.  YES I do.  You have to understand that it is a BATTLE!  And we can be heroes of our own fate or we can allow ourselves to become victims — victims of our own ongoing lack of discipline, our inability to stick to anything in order to accomplish the goal we have set before us.  Passing by has the ability to take us down every single time, losing those discipline battles right and left.

So what about Bypassing, you ask?  What do I mean by it?  Well … I believe that when a decision is made to being disciplined in an area of life, what should come with it is an attitude of Bypassing.  Synonyms?

  Avoidance.  Deflection.  Circumvention. Neglecting.  Ignoring.  Detour.  Circumnavigate.  Skirt.  Disregard.  Go Around rather than Go Through.

Bypassing temptation seems difficult at first.  It requires an iron-clad will and a mindset of sacrifice; that’s where the “saying no to oneself” comes into play.  Remember, one of the attributes of discipline is intention — being purposeful.  Bypassing something that is a temptation and that could easily derail discipline takes intention of will, intention of actions, intention of sacrifice, intention of saying NO.  It’s an avoidance of the temptation all together … a detour … disregarding it … circumnavigating AROUND IT rather than passing by it close enough to taste, feel, smell, touch and hear it.  Bypassing requires a plan and is a decision made in the mind — it is not emotional.  It doesn’t pine after, long for, or feel as if it’s missing out.  It takes on a whole new set of rules and runs with them — focusing more on all the great things in the forefront and less on the “Can’ts and Don’ts”.  Bypassing forages new paths — doesn’t take the same ol’ path with the same lack of results.  Bypassing creates detours and eliminates the road blocks rather than trying to navigate through the flashing yellow caution lights and “Rough Road Ahead” signs that warn of an impending stall or complete standstill on the road to success.

Practical applications of Bypassing -vs- Passing By?  Be careful as you read — these may sting a little bit!

1.  You (Actually, this was ME, back in the day!) signed up for an intense weight lifting program because you really want to see what you can accomplish in the way of muscle gain.  Your coach says, “I need you to NOT RUN LONG DISTANCES for the duration of the program because it will stall your weight lifting/muscle preservation goals.”  Passing By:  You scroll through the Active.com website for upcoming races (just to see) . Bypassing:  You take yourself to the weight room and resist your urge to scroll … and possibly take the Active.com app off your phone for good measure.

2.  You said that this year you are going to clean up your diet specific to sugar intake because it is your weakness.  Passing By:  Buys several boxes of Girl Scout Cookies (for your kids, of course) and keeps them in pantry, just close enough, but “behind closed doors”, you say.  So you feel “safe”.  May have a few after a solid workout, you know, as a reward.  Bypassing:  Doesn’t have any sugary temptations in the house, at all.

3.  The goal?  Drink less alcohol.  Passing By: Schedules all meetings and social gatherings at places that serve alcohol because of the fear of being judged by colleagues/friends and doesn’t want to look like a teetotaler.  Bypassing:  Tells everyone what the goal is, asks for support and schedules meetings and gatherings at non-alcohol venues OR let’s go of fear of judgment and because of the announcement of goals to others, makes a decision to order water EVERY SINGLE TIME.  Realizes being a teetotaler isn’t the worst thing in life.

4.  You make a resolution to stick to a specific exercise regimen.  Passing By:  Tiptoes around the excuses not to go to the gym today, tomorrow or the next day.   Says “I’ll make up for it” next week or “I’ll actually START next week rather than this week”.  “Am really tired and probably would’t get a good workout anyway.”  Bypassing: Deflects all excuses by creating specific workout appointments with self in the calendar.  These appointments cannot be broken, much like a doctor’s appointment or business meeting.  They are non-negotiable – family members, colleagues and friends are aware of this – and it would take an act of God to reschedule.

5.  You decide to follow a nutrition plan because you want to rein in your diet and drop a few pounds.  Passing By:  It’s ok if I have a cheat day.  I’m taking an 80% / 20% approach because nobody can be perfect.  Bypassing:  Does not begin something with an “out” already in place (20%). Says NO TO SELF with regards to cheat days and gives 100% — spot on as best as possible every day.  Avoids a deviation (of his/her own choosing) at all costs.  Prepares meals (intentional mindset) ahead of time to stay on point knowing that true results require an all out effort, with no room for potential derailment.

Over the years of practice I have personally learned the importance of Bypassing.  It has brought me to a place of Discipline in areas of my life where I can look back and say, “I DID it!  I actually DID IT!!”  And what a feeling that is — to accomplish something you set out to do by taking the action necessary to govern yourself and your decisions.  I want everyone to experience that feeling!  Was I ALWAYS PERFECT in my execution?  No.  Remember, the path to discipline is made through trial and error, failures and a “get back up” mentality.  It requires a relinquishing of the “Passing By” mindset that says, “What will it hurt?  It’ll only be for a minute.  Take that one little moment to comfort yourself.  You deserve to go off your path just a teesny-tiny bit.”  That’s enemy territory, my friends.  Put on your armor and go to war with yourself and your excuses, with the temptations that sneer at you at every turn.  Re-Route, take a detour, navigate a different path, create a new passage.  BYPASS your way to your Disciplined Success!  Fight for it and for yourself on the daily!  And, when you reach that pinnacle you will have the ability, and sincere privilege, to look back and say, “I DID IT!  I ACTUALLY DID IT!!”

Yours in Fitness,

~M

SONY DSC

The Power of SHE!

I’ve never truly considered myself a “toughy” … having that “bad to the bone”, “you can’t touch this” kinda attitude that makes itself known by walking in front of me into a room. Seems to me that true toughies, or rather, the aura of true toughies makes grand entrances and exits in life. I can see it now. The aura of a badass stands all Wonder Woman-like. Legs apart. Hands on hips. Fists clenched, just in case. Shoulders broad. Mouth fixed. Eyes fierce. She could be standing on the set of an old Western, in front of those swinging doors, ready to enter the saloon guns-a-blazin’. Or bustin’ her way through a crowd of situationally unaware people, barking out orders and getting shit done. I can envision this tough-girl aura strutting across a room filled with testosterone- producing men. Her head held high, hair pulled back in piggies and her ballcap sitting backwards on her head. She doesn’t fit in, necessarily. Oh, but she WILL fit in no matter what. Because her aura is iron clad, tough as nails, strong as steel. Her aura is her power. It is the Power of SHE.

Seems to me that I woke one day and it dawned on me … I have the Power of SHE. I don’t know how I got it. If it was given to me as a gift. If I grew it on my own like some sort of seedling that turns into a full- blown towering tree. I don’t know if it has always been there, hidden in my insides, full of potential but never playing an active roll in my life. I think maybe it’s a byproduct of age … one of the good byproducts.

Oh, there’s plenty of not-so-good, one-foot-in-the-grave, take-me- behind-the-shed-and-put-me-out-of-my-misery things that come with age. For instance, how about menopause and all it’s nastiness? MEN … OH, PAUSE before you find your woman standing over you in the middle of the night holding a very sharp knife in the air, about to plummet it into your heart. Yeah. That’s some kinda crazy, right there. Or let’s talk about elephant skin, shall we? A gathering of the skin in places, like, at your knees for starters. Delightful, indeed. Maybe your eyes decide to become blind as a bat…overnight. Or the common

saying of “my get up and go has gotten up and went.” Dinner is at 4:30pm. Bedtime is at 8 only to not sleep through the night and you drag your aging booty out of bed at 3:30am. And let’s just not discuss the aging booty. I’ll spare you the details.

But there’s some good stuff that comes alongside the passage of life- moments. And I believe all the good stuff adds up to create this incredible awakening to the Power of SHE. Perhaps I personally never recognized my own “toughy” attributes because I had not yet reached the pinnacle of age’s knowledge and understanding of self. I had not yet let go of the bumbling attributes of youth and embraced the grace and empowerment of this (ahem, clearing of throat) more mature time of life. Before I delve any further, you must know that I am all of 48 years young. I’ve not quite crossed that half-a-century mark but am well aware that I am more than likely beyond what society calls mid-life. If 48 were mid-life for me, then lets do the math….my life expectancy would be 96. Sure, I could make it to 96. Several do. But then again, several don’t. So, suffice it to say, that I consider myself having already skedaddled past mid-life and have somehow launched myself into the “after mid life”. What does society call that? The Twilight years? Who knows. And who really cares. All of that discourse to tell you that I am a mere 48. And what to my wondering eyes does appear? A handful of good stuff. Gifts from the Universe, delivered only at this particular time of life.

To Name a Few …

Confidence Oh yeah. Girl’s got some now. Girl knows who she is, finally, and waves her banner of Belief in Self. Confidence means (Con) With (Fid) Faith or Belief . Confidence: to move about with a faith or belief. Never underestimate the complete and overwhelming empowerment of the belief or faith in one’s self. All those youthful years I, along with the hoard of womankind, walked through life with a

proverbial head-down mentality. Unsure of our value, our worth, our strength. Little did we know that we held inside of us the Marvel Comic Book attributes of a super hero. Our confidence, though not fully developed during the days of our youth, would one day be the kryptonite to all of life’s villains. “How do you like me now?”, I say, head held high (not to be mistaken for haughtiness, which is an altogether disgusting alter ego to confidence) and eyes fixed on whatever I want to accomplish. And the belief and absolute faith in my now non-youthful self adds quite a lump sum to my Power of SHE bank account.

Freedom I dare not tiptoe around this one, for it is, in a word, HUGE. So here we go: Freedom from subversion by anyone’s attempt at control. Be it a spouse, your EX, a co-worker, or that petulant woman who wants to hold you under her thumb because you walk to the beat of your own drum instead of in time to her sheet of music. Or maybe it’s your parents who hold petty standards of living in your face and continue to criticize you for seeing the world differently. Be it that social club that never finds room in their agenda for you because in truth you don’t look like them, or act like them, or buy the same handbag and matching shoes that they do or maybe it’s the set-in-their-ways men you are dating that make you want to get off that roller coaster ride, and NOW. Freedom from allowing your life’s script to be drafted by anyone’s pen except your own. Freedom from hiding behind your past, your mistakes, your hang ups, your character flaws. Freedom from anyone or anything or any habit or any opinion or any idea that would put baby in a corner and keep her there. My freedom, your freedom, HER freedom equals her power. The Power of SHE.

Strength Not all strength needs to be visually physical in nature. Physical strength is amazing, empowering, mind-blowing, conquer-the- worlding, and a woman who is further along the spectrum of life can most certainly create her strongest body ever. But at her age she also has developed strength of character and will. Strength of mind and spirit.

Strength of her innerds, in addition to her outerds. That wise ol’ bird knows a thing or two about life and has gone through a thing or two in life that has forced tension on her muscle power of heart and will. It has created hypertrophy … a strengthening, a growing. Now she stands a pillar of strength, having a heart of experiences that is, quite frankly, larger than life. She knows the rights of life due to the wrongs that have been done to her. Her character shines bright and true because of the darkness and the deceit she has seen. Her mind gains strength from learning about life through the school of hard knocks. Her spirit. Oh the rising up of her spirit is probably the most beautiful display of strength there is. Resilience. Resolve. Drive. Determination to Live, to Love, to Laugh. Her Power of SHE rests securely on the balustrades of her new-found strength.

Authenticity By this stage of the game most women are tired of not being who they know themselves to be … tired of cow-towing under anyone else’s definition of who they are. I myself have grown weary of living to the standard of make-believe … that thought process in another person’s head of who they “think” I am or should be. I simply want to BE. The State of Being. Existing. As is. Who am I? I am a heart- driven, full of emotion and passion woman who loves time to herself and craves independence. I am a word nerd and move through my life with creativity and not always well-thought-out plans or agendas. I have no need to play a part or look a part or blend in with the Joneses. Shallow is not the name of the game for me and if you plan to keep me there, then I’d gladly walk away. I adore humor and laughter … all the way to my gut and have disdain for hyper-seriousness and an air of judgment and will write you off if you reveal piety of any flavor. I am a show-er of grace and mercy and compassion. I have an internal drive that pushes me to better myself without, or shall I say, in spite of, any input or criticism from you. I hold onto those whom I have let into the fiber of my being and it takes a cutting-me-loose event for me to ever let go of you. I have a deeply spiritual side, holding a deep faith in the God who

made me who I am. My Power of SHE is vibrantly colored in neon with hopes that its contagious light will seep into the dark places of others.

And Finally …

Vitality The state of being truly alive. A woman who comes alive has a power beyond measure. She is electrifying through and through. She becomes a force with which to be reckoned. She is turned up to high voltage. No more in between, half life. Woe to the one who tries to squelch her, to force her to become numb, disinterested, status quo, domesticated, unfeeling, dead. That Power of She will stir up a hurricane of disaster to those who kill her spirit. She will be forced to use her Power of She, however not for good but for evil against all enemies who threaten it. Her awakening grants her use of her wings. Be wise, you who share life alongside her. Allow her to fly. Do not be threatened by her desire to spread her wings and soar way above the ground where she has resided, even if her residence has been at your side. Free her. Let her go. She will return to you. But hinder her vitality, her awakening, label it or criticize it or squash it and she will die to you forever. The Power of SHE is fueled by her own awakening from slumber, her state of being truly and wonderfully alive.

I suppose on so many levels I am, indeed, a “toughy” after all. And so are you, dear lady. Yours and my laugh lines, precarious skeletal cracking noises, suspicious age spots, our shared mid-life crisis moments, the evidence of a little crazy here and there, our mutual brain fog, night sweats, aching backs and hairdo catastrophes are all part and parcel to living in the wisdom years. We won’t call it old age. In fact, we just won’t use those two terms at all … Old and Age. We are seasoned. Well rooted and well adjusted. We have grace and class mixed in with a little cray cray now and then. We have depth beyond belief and wisdom available when we need it. We have at our fingertips a wealth of knowledge and experience and have run entire households

with a never empty coffee mug in one hand, one of the kids’ light sabers in the other and a survival kit attached to our backs.

So go on with your bad self. Rip open that hero cape to reveal that letter S embroidered on your black muscle T-shirt, flex those guns and may the Power of SHE rule the day from this day forth!