Peace In The Margins

Finding peace in a season of becoming

As I sit here crying, for some unknown reason, I’m reminded that getting older isn’t for the weak.

There’s no dramatic trigger. No single sharp thought. Just a quiet swell of emotion that arrives uninvited and settles in my chest.

There’s a word that carries an entire storm of feelings with it. Menopause.

A word whispered, joked about, or avoided altogether. A word wrapped in embarrassment, fear, anger, regret. Rarely spoken with reverence. Almost never with kindness. It’s presented as an ending, a loss, a breaking point.

And for a moment this morning, it felt like that. Heavy. Unfair. Lonely.

But today, I’m choosing something different.

Today, I brush away the tears and reach for the truth beneath the noise. Because this season, uncomfortable and unpredictable as it may be, is not a punishment. It’s a passage.

This body has carried me through decades of becoming. It has loved, labored, birthed dreams and people and versions of myself I barely recognize now. It has held grief and joy in equal measure. It has endured change before, and it has always adapted.

So maybe this isn’t about loss at all.

Maybe it’s about release.

Release from expectations that were never mine to carry. Release from shrinking, from apologizing, from placing everyone else’s comfort ahead of my own. There is a quiet power in no longer needing permission to take up space.

This season asks for softness and strength at the same time. It asks me to listen more closely to my body, my spirit, my needs. To rest when rest is required. To speak when silence no longer serves. To honor the wisdom that only time can teach.

Yes, there are days when emotions spill over without warning. Days when I feel unfamiliar to myself. But there are also moments of startling clarity. Confidence that doesn’t need validation. A steadiness rooted deep in knowing who I am and who I am no longer willing to be.

Today, I choose to see this chapter as a threshold, not a decline.

A turning inward.

A becoming.

There is growth here.

There is power here.

There is confidence being forged quietly, patiently.

And above all there is hope.

Even in the tears.

Especially in the change.