What is a crone? How do I know if I am one? Do I have to be really old or just heading in the right direction? I’m perilously close to 60, so I figure I can’t be too far off if I’m not there already.

From what I’ve read or heard, the word crone was once used in connection with ugly old women, occasionally called hags, who could be unpleasant, sometimes malicious and a little cunning.  So, the term crone had a rather negative connotation, but over the years it has had somewhat of a rebirth with a gentler, albeit still strong in its own right, understanding. It has become more aligned with an older woman, an Archetypal figure, a woman of wisdom.  Essentially, a post-menopausal woman who can no longer bear children.

By the way… is now the right time to say I love the word hag for some obscure reason? Maybe it’s time to revamp the word. What do you think? Perhaps a discussion for another time.

Back to the crone conundrum and the reason I’m curious about it. I’m in my 60^th year and without meaning or wanting to sound pretentious, entitled, out of touch or any other negative thing, I’ve been struggling with that somewhat.  It’s not so much that I’m afraid of getting old, it’s more that I don’t feel ready for it.  There are SO many things I still want to do and I feel like I’m running out of time. 

I don’t feel old enough to be turning 60, despite my eldest son having turned 40 earlier this year and my younger sons all being firmly established in their 30’s.  How can that be?  How does time go so fast? Speaking of which, how can it be June when we’ve just had New Year?

I am conscious of not being terribly well set up for my old (older) age which has come about due to a variety of reasons, some of them bad decisions as we all make at some point during our lives. There are times when I worry about it and I’d like to improve the situation, which is part of why I feel like time is running out. Do I have time to achieve what I want to? Is it possible? Do I have the energy, the smarts, the ability to do it? 

I grew up with the belief I would only marry once and that it would be for life. Like many people in this world, that’s not the way it went down and it was bit of a shock when I came out of a 21-year marriage with virtually nothing 20 years ago.  It took a while to learn how to stand on my own two feet and that sense of knowing I could take care of myself became incredibly important to me.

I’d been a stay-at-home Mum as childcare costs for five kids was unaffordable, so I put my career dreams on hold (I don’t regret that, it was right for us at the time) and was the background support for my husband while he advanced in his career.

As my sons grew, I became immersed in volunteer work with one of the largest women’s organisations in the country. The volunteer work fed my soul and kept my brain active, while giving me the opportunity to learn and grow as I progressed through various roles with them.

After my marriage ended, I went back to full time study for a couple of years as I knew I had to be working full time by the time my youngest son reached 16 years of age if I was going to fully support myself. As it turned out, the experience I gained from my volunteer work was an integral part of me landing my first field placement and that combined with my studies, led me to being offered work with the same org I’d been placed with and kick-started my career in my chosen field of work.

Over the years since, I’ve had two shorter relationships. One was a 3 year relationship and the other a 6 year on/off relationship. While the longer relationship held many good moments with some happy and fun memories, it was also the most challenging relationship I’ve ever experienced in my life and I didn’t like the person I became during that time.

I didn’t bounce from one relationship to another, there were a few years between each one as I had a few pesky trust issues to work through and needed the time to get my head together again. In between the two relationships, I had a work transfer which gave me the experience of living on my own for the first time in my life at the grand age of 53.

I lived at home until I married and when my marriage broke up, I was living with some of my children. When the first relationship broke up, one of my sons who was in his early 20s by then, was still living at home so I had never had the experience of living on my own before then. It took a little getting used to, but it was liberating, and I loved the freedom associated with it.

I wasn’t looking for a partner to ‘take care of me’ as such because I liked my newfound independence, however, I did think I’d have enough time to get myself organised, however long that took.  Turns out that ‘however long’ doesn’t take long at all to pass and at the end of both my marriage and the first relationship, I found it took a considerable time to get back onto an even keel financially (much longer than I anticipated) where I could make ends meet again.

A few more years down the track, I also moved countries. Twice! I know, extreme right? I fell in love with New Zealand in 2012 and within a year or two, knew I wanted to spend a longer period of time here. Twelve months seemed like a good time frame with the opportunity to experience all the seasons in an alpine environment. I absolutely loved it! My 12 months over here was wonderful but it also held it’s challenges due to being in the midst of the aforementioned difficult relationship and it impacted greatly on my experience in NZ.

When I returned to Australia, I missed the Southern Alps terribly, so it wasn’t long before I was seriously considering moving back indefinitely. Moving the second time was not only because I didn’t feel done with NZ and missed the place, but it was also a fresh start and a decision that has held no regrets.

Of course, I missed my family hugely and who knew there would be a pandemic? Our reunions after a few years apart were bittersweet, as so much had happened during that time. It made the reunions all the sweeter, the time together more precious and the appreciation for all I have to be grateful for, that much deeper.

In the mix and swirl of the middle aged cauldron of life were the joys of menopause.  Now that took a long time to arrive, to the point where I began to wonder if I would be menstruating into my 60’s!  I never thought I’d be so excited to see that happen, given it is a distinct reminder of aging but I was surprisingly delighted when I reached this particular milestone after a few false promises.

Ergh, and now I’m waffling. I’ve always been bit of a waffler, however, does that come more pronounced with age or is that a hereditary thing?  I was reminded recently when I queried whether I’m getting too old to go for some of the career type goals I have, that one is never too old to learn or to share their wisdom. 

I see myself as one of the lucky ones in life. Sure, I’ve experienced tough times, significant trauma and raw grief in the mix, but don’t we all? There are many tragedies in life but none of us get through life without experiencing it in some shape or form.

I firmly believe I have been lucky and for that I am truly grateful. The tough times have held their own lessons and had their own blessings, even though it has sometimes been hard to see them at first.

What I’m getting at with all the blah blah and background, is that I have been fortunate because I have lived, I have loved, I’ve raised five awesome young sons, I’ve been blessed with a bunch of grandkids, I’ve weathered the ups and downs of life, the heartaches and the joys, the trauma I wasn’t sure I’d find my way out of and the sheer exhilaration that comes with doing things I never thought I would.

Along the way, I have gained a wealth of experience and knowledge not just from the university of life, but also from my work life that has predominantly had a focus with vulnerable people.  All of these things have had a role in shaping who I am today, the good, the bad and the everything else in between.

I caught up with a friend a few months ago and we were talking about life and the where to from here. She is aware of some of my hopes and dreams, and I was in the midst of self-doubt when I commented about potentially being too old and wondering whether I could even do what I wanted to do.

She looked at me before saying something along the lines of – you don’t have to share the knowledge you’ve gained from all these experiences. You don’t need to help or support people anymore, after all, you have been doing it in some shape or form for years, why keep going?  You can hang on to all of that wisdom and keep it all to yourself, no need to share it with anyone else. Why would you even want to do that?

I have to admit her words didn’t sit comfortably with me. I’ve known what I’d like to do for a while, but I started to get stuck on the age thing.  I’m too old to do that. I don’t have the knowledge I need to share ‘wisdom’.  Who do I think I am to be saying I even have wisdom to share?  Who would be interested anyway?  Yikes, all that self-doubt came thundering through. 

My friend reminded me who gives a rats about age? It’s just a number and essentially I am using it as an excuse. Tough love right there folks!

As I sit here writing, I am also reminded of a little nugget of wisdom I heard in a Mel Robbins podcast that went something like this. 

‘Confidence is the willingness to try. Anyone from any background can do it.  When you’re willing to try, your confidence will grow.

Self-doubt is the decision NOT to try.  Self-doubt leads to hesitancy and inaction. It is the act of trying that feeds your confidence.’

Wowsers, doesn’t that hit the spot!

I still have that pervasive, lingering sense of aren’t I too damn old to do this? To have a career change? To try and start something completely new? To have my own business as such? To do something other people are already doing and doing well? Why do I think I can do it too?

It can be a tough gig to put those negative thoughts in the rear-view mirror, but it’s not like I have oodles of time to entertain them. If I’m going to change things up, then why am I letting that crappola stop me? It’s freaking big and scary is what it is. Time to pull those big girl knickers all the way up and get on with it!

Time to be inquisitive, to explore, to be curious, to ask questions, to push my self-imposed limits a little further and make a fricken start! Time to test out this newly acquired crone-hood. Do you want to join me on the ride?

Inquisitively yours until next time!

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