For some reason my 78-year-old-self
woke up this morning with a poem I’d written years ago entitled “I’m Done,” on my mind. I looked it up on my computer and it said I wrote it in 2007, so 14 years ago! It struck me how wonderful it is to be this age! I have loved aging and except for a couple of physical interruptions like getting a new hip and a pacemaker in the last couple of years, life just continues to get better and better.
Have you noticed how setbacks cause us to maneuver through them and come out the other side better? Like COVID. It’s exciting to think of all the joy, relief, freedom, love and appreciation we, collectively will bring to the planet when this pandemic is over! We will never look at another human being without compassion for what they’ve been through. Life will be better for everyone who knows that to be true.
When I wrote “I’m Done” I was reflecting on a period (pardon the pun that reflects the subject of the poem) of my life that was over! Not that I didn’t enjoy that part of my life, because I loved it, but it was just so nice to put it behind me. (I’m going to share the poem at the end of my blog.)
In my upcoming book, "How to Live Happily Ever After: Cinderella Did it and You Can Too," I quote Abraham Hicks: “Happiness is just a string of happy moments, but most people are not aware of the happy moments because they’re too busy trying to get a happy life.” (If we’re going to hoard anything let it be happy moments.)
And now for the poem, “I’m Done.”
I’m Done
My periods ended abruptly
March of '98
At first I thought I was pregnant
You know that thought when you’re late?
I didn’t want another child
I was finished raising three
I’d really gotten used to
That luscious feeling of FREE
The next month came and nothing
Except for the hot flash parade
Then nine months later it hit me
I’m through, I’ve got it made
After doing some math I concluded
That for 43 years of my life
I’d had a period once a month
Three thousand, six hundred twelve days of strife
Cramps and bloating, Mom called it the curse
Hormones all out of whack
Stains in my panties that wouldn’t come out
And “oh, my achin’ back.”
And every month like clockwork
PMS raised her ugly head
To keep my friends and family
It was best to stay in bed
I’d cry like a baby, I’d swear like a ho
I’d rage, I’d growl, I’d spit
And then the next day I’d be me again
Full of kindness, compassion and wit
I thought of all the money I’ve spent
In those fabulous fertile years
Bails of maxi pads and tampons
And bottles of Mydol, my dears
If I’d been a guy and saved the dough
That I had to spend on the curse
I could buy myself a Mercedes
And still have some cash in my purse
So with my bloody past behind me
It’s time to take some credit
I’m a woman who made it through the change
I’m done and I’m glad I’ve said it
Copyright 2007 Pamela I. Young
Since 1998, I learned one of the advantages of "the curse" for a SHE (Sidetracked Home Executive) was the notice that another month had passed. Before Peggy and I got organized with the 3x5 cards, I used that monthly nudge to fertilize my indoor plants, give the dog it's flea meds, cut my toenails, reconcile bank statements, flip the mattress, and a bunch of other monthly tasks. If you're still having the luxury of this natural reminder and you're using it to get monthly jobs done, I'm just sayin' there'll come a time when you'll need the 3x5s.
I'd suggest the video program: "Get Your Acts Together" for $14.95 plus for five more days you'll get my book, "The Joy of Being Disorganized," E-book FREE.