Finding my ROAR

Lately, I have been possessed by a woman much cooler than me. And I like her.

I am transforming and shifting, in subtle ways and in cosmic leaps, both secretly, imperceptibly, undetectable from the outside and in explosive bursts of loud fire. I am walking away from my shed skin with intentionality, awareness, clarity and reverence. It lies behind me like a discarded cloak.

I am full of rage. Lots of women I talk to are too.

It’s not the same feeling as anger. It’s not destructive. It’s constructive. It’s the building blocks of something entirely new. This rage is illuminating and bright and strong, a culmination of fifty years of suppression and fear. The rage is a high pressure release valve.

I am stepping into my power, and it feels fucking great. Shit – turns out I was okay all along. I was always okay. I was always enough. I was weird, sure. And quirky and different. I was lost and awkward and shy. But the essence of ME, the roar at my core, well, that was always there. And now she’s coming out, baby. Sometimes I laugh, manically, the release too good not to enjoy fully. Other times I sob, for while the transformation into a new phase, a new identity, a new power is undeniably positive, the process of metamorphosis is, at its core, challenging and painful. Experiencing your own strength in surges and waves can feel frightening as well as liberating. It is timely that I am only now reading Naomi Alderman’s 2017 novel, The Power. Oftentimes I feel like the girls in the book, both giddy and alarmed by discovering exactly what they are now capable of doing with their once obedient bodies, their once submissive minds.

The ROAR is being more certain than ever of who I am, while simultaneously acknowledging that I am more uncertain than ever about life. The older I get the more I realise that life is unfathomable. I’m happy dwelling in the swirling, deliciousness of mystery and wonder.

But who I am? – that I’m rock solid sure of.

Yes, I’m resentful and angry at the lost years. Yes, there’s a righteous anger about the injustices, the discrimination, the squashing and manipulating of others. But I aim to alchemise the pain and create something powerful from it.

Sometimes I feel as though I am filled with a bright cosmic light and I cannot supress it.

It lights up my once-tired brain and gives me clarity.

I am getting wiser by the day.

More grounded but also more ethereal.

More spiritual and more critical.

Ageing is still seen almost exclusively as a negative in our culture. And despite great strides in some areas, don’t be fooled – sexism and misogyny are alive and kicking. But together we can begin to change the narrative. By being mindful of which bits of ageing we buy into and which bits we reject. It’s our choice. We could, collectively, cause the collapse of the anti-ageing, diet and beauty industry.

What a perfect vision - women rising , fists raised, bones and feathers and twigs in our wild, proudly grey hair. With our stretch marks and age spots and battle scars, our sagging skin, our cellulite. We can turn our beautiful bodies away from criticism and rejection. Because what is rejecting us? A society that profits from our misery and discontent. A powerful woman, standing firmly in her own confidence, happy with herself and her life isn’t easy to suppress and control and well, a content woman doesn’t buy all the shit they’re trying to peddle.  

In light of the fact that society and its structures are nowhere close to being supportive of women in midlife, we need to be radical in doing it for ourselves and each other. We need to be rebels – actively turning down the volume of the messages of not-enoughness that we hear every day and replacing them with our own wild chants. Then we can become the beautiful, powerful wise elders that we are destined to be. Remember,

You are enough

You are perfect

You are wild

You are a rebel

You have a ROAR