I just cannot escape it. At first, I thought I could just walk away. That was sooosooo many years ago. Then I felt an urgent feeling that I needed to speed up. So I found myself running. Yet, no matter how fast I went, there it was. At first, I would just see an occasional glimpse of it, and then slowly and surly I would see it more and more in the mirror, around every corner and in every refection. UUUUGGGGHHH! The crone!
I am now considered an old crone,a stock character in folklore and fairy tales. I am an old woman. I am used in some stories, as disagreeable, malicious, or sinister in manner, often with magical or supernatural associations that can make me either helpful or obstructing. I am also an archetypal figure, a Wise Woman. Although, I am marginalized by my exclusion from the reproductive cycle, and my proximity to death places me in contact with occult wisdom. As a character type, I share characteristics with the hag.
I do like the title though,
popularized by Robert Graves and I am not sure about this but part of the neo-paganism, particularly Wicca in which she symbolizes the Dark Goddess, the dark of the moon, the end of a cycle. In New Age and Feminist spiritual circles, a "Croning" is a ritual rite of passage into an era of wisdom, freedom, and personal power.
I am at the end of the cycle. Things are spreading out, falling down and flapping in the breeze. Some parts of me have even developed a mind of their own and are growing in a direction they are not supposed to.
Not that I am complaining, Ok! I guess I am. All the exercising I have done over the years useless! In addition, it used to be I could drop 10 pounds in three weeks by just cutting back on my food intake. I cannot cut back anymore! Furthermore, if I lose any weight, I just have more stuff flapping around in the breeze.
I did not go grudgingly into daughterhood, sisterhood, wifehood or motherhood. However, I will not go gentle into this rite of passage. I am going kicking, screaming and dragging my feet.
My skin is thinning and starting to resemble something like Crape paper. Gees Louise, if I could just go back to the occasional pimple of the past, I would be content. Sometimes I stand in front of the mirror and pull my skin on my face back with the palms of my hands. Oh! There I am I say.
Worst of all, in this new phase of my life I am in, I have to start writing down everything I need to do for the next day. This is distressing, because it takes me all day to write the list. Not to mention I have to carry it around with me because otherwise, I will be walking around mumbling under my breath asking myself what am I supposed to be doing.
I have been thinking of wearing scarves and turtlenecks, to cover up my sagging jaw line and turtle like neck. Now I know why they call them turtlenecks. To cover-up, your turtle like neck. Never been one to wear much makeup. However, I am sure considering it now. It used to be all I had to do was fluff the hair and go. Maybe a little mascara and blush.
This complete panic attack all started the other day.Like this was a complete surprise to me, duh. As if I had no clue, I was getting old. I was standing in a checkout line and reading the front of all those magazines, and then I saw Christie Brinkley on the front of one of them. She is turning 60 years old. Huh, I saw nothing spreading out, falling down or flapping in the breeze on her. Really, I thought to myself there obviously is some brush-up work on this photo. In addition, I would suspect she has seen a bunch of witch doctors that casted a no age spell on her
Now we have all seen the pictures of plastic surgeries gone wrong, so even if I had the money, with my luck I would probably be one of those gone wrong surgeries. They would plaster my mug shot on a web site somewhere.
I began to look around and all I saw was old women. They were going about their business as if nothing was wrong. The problem came in when I realized I was one of them. We were all the same. Old woman, crones and hags. Of course, we were out shopping in the middle of the day. We have all day and all day to do it in, as the saying goes. We just have to get back home before dark, because we cannot see that well anymore at night. We do not have jobs to fill our days. We do not have small children to take care. We are crones.
More from health