I was thrown into menopause amoungst a tumult of circumstances. When my son Erich was killed by a drunk driver, the weight of that loss consumed my mental, emotional, and spiritual energy. I had no capacity left to track the subtle (and not-so-subtle) physical changes unfolding within me. I was undergoing a profound metamorphosis on every level—and in the process, I completely overlooked the transition that could be named menopause.
Having lost my mother when I was 35, I never had the opportunity to ask her about her experience with this phase of life. I had no generational roadmap. Thankfully, I had been working with HeatherAsh Amara and the Warrior Goddess Training Circle, where I learned to view life through the lens of archetypal energy and sacred cycles. I understood, at least in part, that this stage of life marked a shift into the realm of the Crone.
Recently, I was introduced to Sharon Blackie’s Hagitude: Reimagining the Second Half of Life. It felt like a balm and a mirror—gorgeously written and rich with myth, folklore, personal story, and the deep alchemy of feminine eldering.
One of the first passages that struck a deep chord in me was her commentary on how our modern world has medicalized menopause—reducing it to a list of hormonal deficiencies, dysfunctions, and symptoms to endure. Blackie offers another lens:
“What we should be doing during menopause is gently and consciously letting go of one period of our lives, and slowly and mindfully easing the progression into another.
That letting go is hard—of course it is. It needs time; it needs tenderness.
…Because menopause is an ending of sorts, and it is natural to mourn an ending—but it is also a new beginning. It is above all a transformation.” (pg. 24)
Letting go.
That phrase alone resonates deeply. Erich’s death cracked open my life and initiated me into the deepest letting go I’ve ever known—not just of my son’s physical presence, but of my role as his mother, of long-held dreams, and of the shape I thought my life would take.
For years, I felt like the unformed mush of the pupa inside the cocoon—no longer who I was, not yet who I was becoming. Reading Hagitude helped me understand that some of this shapelessness was not just trauma or grief, but the natural alchemy of menopause. This transformation was coming from deep within me, independent of outer circumstances. It was marking a profound inner rite of passage.
Honoring what Sharon Blackie calls my “Alchemy of Menopause” is helping me reclaim my strength. It’s giving me permission to stop trying to rebuild the old version of myself and instead rise from the ashes, transformed. I no longer need to gather the broken pieces and reassemble them into a previous form. Instead, I welcome the fire. I embrace the conflagration burning away and fully releasing the old me. I choose to become something wholly new—the Hag, the Witch, the Wise Woman, the Cailleach.
Blackie doesn’t just speak of loss and transformation—she lifts us into vision. Through the lens of folklore, she introduces us to elder women of myth who embodied a fierce, grounded, magical presence. Women who didn’t fade into invisibility but stepped fully into their purpose.
“Hagitude: a comfort with the unique power they embody, a strong sense of who they are and what they have to offer the world, a strong belief in their necessary place in the ever-shifting web of life.” (pg. 135)
Yes. This is the elderhood I long for.
I don’t have it all figured out. But I do feel as if I’ve finally emerged from my cocoon with wings that are still drying in the sun. I am not the woman I was before. I am learning the language of this new form. I look forward to mastering my Hagitude—and I trust the journey will be full of twists, wisdom, and wild grace.
Are you in a metamorphosis of your own?
If this reflection speaks to you, I invite you to explore my free resources and know ... You are not alone on this journey.
And take the time to read Sharon Blackie's book!
And take the time to read Sharon Blackie's book!
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