This article carries a warning label.

The words that follow will not be uplifting or helpful. Perhaps Some will hear them as a cry for help. I’m certainly willing to listen if anyone has any inspiring words or memes.

I am a 67-year-old woman, on my final adventure , in that invisible place for a woman, after midlife and before the crone stage.

As a child I watched the Vietnam War play out on the evening news. So many young men were dying and I wished I was old enough to join the hippie protesters in the streets with their “Make Love, Not War” signs. I wished for peace.

My black and white tv also showed me man’s first step on the moon. I learned about the passing of the Voting Rights Act in my history class as it was happening . My friends and I burned our bras in my driveway after women were given the right to chose in 1972. I cried tears of joy when Barack Obama became the first Black President of the United States. I celebrated with dear friends at their weddings once gay marriage was made legal. I started seeing the world through rose colored glasses.

Then,  without warning, my peaceful existence was shattered.

My young wish to protest the injustices of the world finally came true as I stood with thousands of others after Trump was elected, in the Women’s March in January of 2016.

I somehow survived the trauma of the Trump years with only a few scars and mild anxiety. 

I finally took a breath and relaxed as I watched President Biden and the first ever black and female Vice President were sworn in.  I naively believed we could all go back to living our lives. Someone my age should have known better.

I sat outside in the sun today and watched as an elephant cloud sauntered above me in a bluebird sky.

I closed my eyes and tried to control my breathing. But it was all there, dancing across the back of my eyelids- Ukrainians dying in a senseless war, Putin threatening the use of nuclear weapons; more black men being killed on the streets; fears of a new wave of the never ending pandemic; the probable loss of a person’s rights to make their own decisions about their bodies.

My social media feeds are filled with the doom and gloom of what will happen next. Our politicians, on both sides of the aisle, are doing nothing but grand standing and making power plays, while the world rotates backwards.

I open my eyes and my elephant cloud has moved on to greener pastures. There is now an old man cloud floating on his back while an alien being dances above him. I smile my first smile of the day.

It’s time to take my oldest grandson to his guitar lesson and my youngest to his tap dancing class. I wonder what the current darkness in the world will mean for them. I wonder if there will be a future in which we can all celebrate their unique song and dance. I would like to say I hope so, but my hope has left the building. If you happen to know where I can find it, please leave me a note in the message section.