The bathroom at the end of the hall has no windows. When I close the door behind me, it can either feel like a moss green and latte cell, or a safe house; whichever depends on how I’m feeling at the time.
This morning, it was sanctuary.
I knew the day wasn’t going to be easy no matter what kind of spin I put on it, because yesterday I received a letter beginning with the words: Welcome to Medicare. My plan was to keep today light to stave off age related issues of insecurity, but if I’d really wanted a retreat day, I would have skipped checking in with my Facebook page, wouldn’t I?
A friend had posted an article relating to internet security that was thoughtful, and while not alarming, I confess, it fed my paranoid side that is suspicious of rapid change. Like any animal with a head larger than mine, I don’t completely trust it without a proper courting phase allowing me time to ease into the unfamiliar, rather than busting through its doors.
This morning a Facebook entry hit a raw nerve, sending me into the shadow that Medicare began the day before, and I found myself heading to the room without windows at the end of the hall.
Small windowless rooms, most notably closets, have long been my sanctuary when the big, bad wolves of the world close in. As a child, I believed I was invisible cowering inside, safe from sharp teeth. As an adolescent, I could feel myself blending into walls, crouching behind an assortment of clothes that played to the particular role I assigned myself for the day. As a young wife, closets offered refuge from the raging bull in the other room. In middle age, I became my own closet, moving in, putting the pieces back together again. At this stage in life, closets are just another chore needing attention.
But this morning, thanks to Medicare and Facebook, the small, windowless room whisked me back in time, and for a moment I crouched in deference to the past that made me the woman I am today. And I covered the crone’s lips in bright fuchsia lipstick before opening another door and entering.
ittymac 
I, too, have a hard time accepting this “aging” thing. No matter how upbeat I want to feel, the words Medicare, retirement, and most of all, Crone, hit me like a ton of bricks. But I have found a publication that takes a fresh look at this “point” in our lives…Crone: Women Coming of Age (http://www.cronemagazine.com/) is a fresh look at that word. Even better, I will writing a column for them twice a year! So you KNOW I’m gonna keep it upbeat.
But it’s not easy coming out of hiding, is it? I love you–and your fuchsia! Keep it glowing!
Years ago, a friend turned my thinking around about the whole crone business, taking it from scary to a higher plane. The problem was the timing; it was easier for me to put a positive spin on an inner fear when I was no where near needing to deal with its reality. Now its time, and since I had a good base, (my friend’s teaching), and I’ve had plenty of time to mull the matter over in my mind, you’d think I’d be braver about it, but I’m not. Aging is challenging…I’ve had a near death experience, and I have my personal faith, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to deal with issues that proceed death, and oh.do.not.get.me.started about dying!
I finally have all my stuff together, seems like I’d have plenty of time and energy left to reap the reward of having done the work. But the realities, mental, social and physical, of getting old just may require more energy than I have left. I’m not one for surrendering, and I’m vain as hell, so as I see it, Claudia, I’m most alive inside when I stick to the story I’ve written for myself. That’s my big Crone Plan; I’m sticking to my story, but I am going to tweak it a bit to cover the whole crone, running out of time thingy. Meanwhile, Plan A is to keep slapping that fuchsia lipstick on for as long as I can.
I’m headed to the site you posted. I am thrilled to ….not death… to near orgasmic frenzy that you’ll be writing there, and you KNOW I’m gonna read every word you write!
You are beautiful ~ elegant, educated, willing to share wisdom, and carved from the Tree of Life with optimism and energy (from where I am standing). You have recreated yourself and your second act is more fun than the first. So that is more clever than Crone. The bright colors that bring you joy and show your beautiful coloring and bone structure are striking no matter what category the Govt. puts you in.
I kinda like messing with shadows; hand me something dark and I’ll do my best to brighten it. Thanks so much for supporting my new blog….matter of fact, Aunt-Bea-Me will be writing later today. 😊
This really strikes a chord with me too. too often I find myself turning my own tragedy into a comedy for others. I guess it is how we show our love by lifting others through the shadows
Sometimes lighting a candle in the dark makes all the difference. I hate crying; it gives me a headache and makes my mascara run. Thankyou so much for taking the time to leave a comment. I appreciate it more than you can know.
Great post. I agree it can be difficult to accept the changes that come with aging, but at least you will have a few benefits now through Medicare….always a bright side. And if facebook gets you down, just ignore it. Thanks for sharing your thoughts. P.S. I also love closets…screaming into pillows works well too.
I understand what you’re saying; every cloud has a silver lining. The things we endure and survive make us who we are. It comes down to choosing what kind of person you want to be. I chose happy. I work the rest out in shadowy poetry! Lol! Thanks so much for your thoughts. I totally get what you’re saying!
I thoroughly enjoyed reading your post. I can relate to the bitter-sweetness of your writing. I shall definitely return to read more. Also being a woman “of a certain age”, (cannot yet bring myself to say “crone”) your words touched my head and heart. I am having a difficult time wrapping my head around many personal issues including chronic illness and the thought of dying. I too choose to work out the tough stuff in shadowy poetry.;)
Thank you so much for visiting my blog as well.
I really, really appreciate your support. I love your site, resonates like crazy for me. Personally, the worst part about getting old is the fact that it’s coming so much sooner than I thought it would. I think I was brain-washed by television commercials and old movies that send the message that “old” begins somewhere around 89. My achy, shrinking body is telling me otherwise! LOL! What’s a girl to do?
I’m looking forward to spending time together, getting to know each other via cyberspace! Oh, by the way, I loved your painting!
http://theempathyqueen.wordpress.com/2013/09/22/the-versatile-blogger-award-a-gracious-way-to-acknowledge-others-and-their-blogs/