Reading · Postmenopausal and here for it

I have been a hermit hidden deep in a cave with only a few exceptions.

That sounds so dramatic, doesn’t it?

Maybe I haven’t been a recluse as much as the writerly-equivalent to a method actor, so deep within my own past, it’s been hard to appear as my normal self.

I’m actually not sure who my normal self is these days.

As it turns out, writing a memoir serves as a deeply cathartic process. For example, as I edited the sections when I was in my twenties, I relived the activities, experiences, and emotions of that decade, but with the perspective of my post-menopausal self.

It may sound self-absorbed, but how often do we allow ourselves time and attention to learn from our life?

Through the experience, I sometimes withdrew from my current day life. The kitchen counter and full laundry hamper often provided evidence. Don’t worry, the dogs, cats and bills still got the appropriate level of attention.

Here’s the thing… I did it! I finished the revisions of my first draft. It took so much longer than I expected. I processed emotions I don’t recall feeling before. I recovered.

There is more to do – more revisions, a feedback loop, more revisions, and then a decision about what happens to these 350 pages. Do I work toward publishing or like “Raiders of the Lost Ark” store them deep within a nondescript warehouse?

First, I take a break, return to Substack, play with an idea for my next project.

It’s like I’m stepping into sunlight after being in that remote cave for months. Except I live in Oregon and it’s February, so it’s less sunlight and more a thin, gray haze flirting with clouds and threatening rain. Daffodils, confused by the mild winter, peek their cheery golden heads up to proclaim spring far too early.

And the news. It’s not like I’ve been totally oblivious, but I haven’t engaged. But now that I peek my head out, I’ll ask this. How are you doing? You’ve been subject to incredibly bad news for a very long time. That wears on our nervous systems, our bodies, our minds. Are we getting enough sleep? Are we eating well? Are we drinking enough water?

Because we know this will not get better soon, right?

Like the controlling father of my memoir, the system failed us a long time ago, and like good kids, we tried to make it work. We made accommodations. We did our part - and more! - to prop up a relationship, a system that hasn’t worked.

I’m going to share an unpopular opinion, one that is directly oppositional to what I would have said a decade ago.

I don’t want peace.

Not in the middle times.

I don’t want “can’t we all just get along?”

No.

I will not bend a knee, apologize or compromise with those associated with deportations, child abuse of any kind and an economy that values return on investment over human well-being. I will not support politicians who do or who are quiet and inactive in their opposition.

This isn’t just politics, it’s morality. It’s justice.

The people of our country have done some incredible things. But the people of our country have also done horrific things. And right now, we have the responsibility to hold them accountable.

Once we get honest about that, we can find our way forward.

Now is not the time to look away. (Yes, speaking to all of my fellow hermits.)

Now is not the time to panic. (Yes, it feels natural.)

Now is the time to visualize the future we want. We can get really clear as we focus on what we want for the earth, for our community. What values are important to us?

Does that seem too ethereal? Too woo-woo? Elite athletes and business leaders visualize success. It clarifies, it focuses, it motivates, it prepares us for what’s next.

Now is the time to take a step in that direction. One small step. Today, tomorrow, the next day. Keep going one step at a time until we’re there.

In the meantime, if a system that no longer serves the people falls, I’m willing to let it go. I won’t idolize a system that condoned containment camps, discrimination, theft. That’s not just the current administration. It’s a country that stole land, resources and lives from its native people. It’s a country built on the backs of slaves, whether formally or through an unjust prison system. It’s a country that relies on an unfair class system to serve the wealthiest, the most powerful.

In one of my favorite Broadway musicals, Hamilton, there’s a line that Lin Manual Miranda wrote for The Schuyler Sisters that gets repeated through the show, “Look around, look around, how lucky we are to be alive right now.”

They could have been scared. It was a time of turmoil, after all. The line repeats later when they’re in the middle of the Revolutionary War. They were brave enough, daring enough, determined enough to create a time of radical change, a rebellion against the monarchy. Ideals triumphed over the establishment,

We could say the same in modern-day America.

Look around, look around. How lucky we are to be alive right now.

Let’s sleep well.

Let’s eat well.

Let’s hydrate.

Let’s dream.

Let’s create.

Let’s go.

I’ve missed you!

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