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It’s not like having the flu or a cold, where you know you will get better but chances are you’ll get sick again, too.

It’s not like when I cut my hair short the last time and I said to my friends this will be it because I’m passed that age and I’ll never have long hair again. Or the time I graduated school and said no more to the books and the learning. Or the time I carried Colton in my belly, thinking he would be the last baby.

It’s not even like the horrible monthly period, or in my case the random whenever-it-felt-like-showing-up-exclamation-point arriving with gifts of discomfort and promise at the same time, even though there is in both a draining away of life blood and possibility.

It’s not a thing I hear talked about much except in jokes of course, the way we joke about women’s things. I’m supposed to be grumpy and fragile and tearful and moody, I think, along with hot flashes and sleeplessness and the rest.

But no one said I’d be sad.

And feel so crappy and bleed and bleed and bleed, and I’m sorry if it’s not the thing to talk about but its The Thing right now and I’m too worn with it to filter or flower it much.

I don’t know what it is or has been like for you because of the no talking about it thing, but this is the way it is for me. I can sum it up in three words.

Blah, blah, blah.

Because I have grown my hair long again, and I’ve picked up new books and learned new things, and I had another baby after Colton.

But this thing that’s happening now, it’s really the end.

And endings can be a bit troublesome, so there.

If I sound whiney, I don’t intend to be. I mostly smile and I mostly feel like smiling, and I mostly love and appreciate and treasure and value all the moments in all the days and I mostly have fun or at least find meaning. And I know I’m blessed and my life is beautiful and Jesus loves me. I know all that and I mean I KNOW all that. I really do.

But my body is doing a normal ageing thing right now and it comes with words like autumn of your life and upper age brackets and silver in my hair, and it’s making me just a little bit crazy with the implications.

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