July | The Summer Solstice Brings Change
Reflections on the first six months of H A G
Did you welcome in the longest day of summer in any special way? The solstice is just one day, perhaps more accurately, just one moment in which the sun reaches its zenith, its turning point, and begins its descent back through the seasons into mid-winter.
Forgive me, if this old hag finds a connection in that moment. It reminds me of my own journey towards menopause. Menopause is just one day, the final day of a year of no bleeding. Before that, we are perimenopausal. The day after, we become post-menopausal.
The sun, however, repeats its cycle, swinging between its limits, year upon year, century upon century, and yet itself does not move, only appears to. And so it is with menopause; as fleshly mortals, we only get to experience this cycle of seasons a finite number of times, our appearance gradually moving through the flux into old age, but inside, the self is still the same person it always was. It’s just that we lose sight of her.
Appearances deceive, don’t they? They tell the world that an older woman is past her best and has nothing of value left to give. Once, we ourselves might have believed that.
Not any more.
And that is why I began H A G. I wanted to create an online space where women like myself could safely gather and learn from and support each other. A community of like-minded powerful women searching for a meaningful way to navigate their H A G years.
Because it’s not easy, this transition, is it? It’s shrouded in secrecy and misinformation and negativity. Menopause, peri- or post-, whichever stage you are at, is a dirty word that people don’t want to hear.
My H A G Story
I haven’t shared much of this with you before, but here goes. I know now that I hit perimenopause when I was 51, but I had no idea what was happening to me at the time. Believe it or not, I had never heard the word ‘perimenopause’.
In trying to get to the bottom of my severe and quite debilitating physical symptoms, I saw numerous doctors and specialists [all male], who smilingly took thousands of euros I could ill afford for expensive tests and an MRI, and then told me it was ‘wear and tear’, before offering to refer me to a colleague, who, no doubt, would repeat the process. I guess I was an easy money-spinner.
It was 2016. I was 51. I had just started my Bachelor of Arts at Maynooth University. I was surrounded by beautiful young people, full of life and energy, yet I could barely hobble between classes because the pain in my knees and ankles was so intense. An average day at uni required walking at least 3km around campus. I struggled and suffered. I saw five different doctors in that period; not one of them mentioned perimenopause. I’d like to note here that I hardly ever visited a doctor. My doctor only knew me because I was Carys’s mother [Carys’s conditions are many and varied; she is well-known in local medical circles].
If another woman told me this story, I would be outraged that no one took her pain seriously. But it was me, and I took the pain, because I began to believe, as was implied, that perhaps it was all in my head, that it wasn’t as bad as I was making it out to be, that I was a drama queen. Then the pain showed up in my elbows, and it was excruciating. By now, I was unable to function; I physically couldn’t care for my disabled daughter. I couldn’t dress or lift her. I couldn’t change her nappy. I thought I was going to end up in a wheelchair and how, then, would I be able to push my daughter around in hers? Yet still, I somehow managed to go to college, go to work, and be there for my family, because modern women can have it all, right?
My ‘cure’ was obviously going to be down to me. I asserted myself with my doctor and got steroid injections for my pain. I didn’t want them, but it was the only way I could manage to care for Carys. I couldn’t believe how liberating being pain-free could be! And I began researching my own condition, just as I had so often been forced to do for Carys. And so I began to learn about perimenopause and what it could do to the transitioning female body.
I also began to learn about other things, like physiotherapy for joint mobility, and the properties of anti-inflammatory foods that could help my joints, and foods that support female hormones. I was measured for some special insoles for my shoes that, over time, really helped relieve the pressure and pain in my knees and ankles. I had three steroid injections for my elbows, and didn’t need any more. By paying attention to my body and learning alternative ways of supporting it, I had gradually nursed my physical self back to health.
Menopause is a natural transition, but that does not mean it is a healthy process. Illness, disease and broken bones are natural afflictions, too, but we have treatments for those. Women’s afflictions are always dismissed as ‘natural’, or inconsequential, or don’t require pain relief. If you are having symptoms as you transition through your H A G years, it is perfectly ‘natural’ for you to seek treatment. Do not be conditioned into thinking that HRT is bad. If you want it, demand it. Just do your research. And ladies, please don’t judge. Sometimes, we can be our own worst enemies. Let’s support each other through this.
This is not the end of my story, though. Perimenopause is not just physical symptoms. 2022 was the year that I learned that sometimes, I need to make myself vulnerable and reach out and ask for help. I was studying for my Master of Arts, which is a full-time course, and also working full-time at the museum. I was studying late every night, then getting up at 5am for more. One Thursday in May, towards the end of second semester, I fell asleep at the wheel while driving home from uni, and crashed the car. I wasn’t hurt, the car wasn’t badly damaged, but it was a wake-up call [please pardon the terrible pun]. It was a harsh way to find out that actually, ‘having it all’ is damaging not only physically but emotionally and mentally too. I didn’t ask for help. It didn’t even occur to me. I gave up my studies and felt such a failure. If other women could do it, why couldn’t I?
My college responded with such support and compassion that I decided to continue and get through my dissertation as best I could, but I had entered a period of depression. Hot flushes woke me many times during the night. My mood and emotions fluctuated wildly over the next few months until they peaked in November, when a work medical assessed my mental health as serious. I actually thought I was going mad. Other things were going on too. I’m sorry if this is too much information, but my monthly bleeds were so copious that maximum absorption tampons and pads were soaking through and leaking into my clothes within an hour, often preventing me from leaving the house and affecting my ability to go to work.
In December, I had a period which lasted a whole month. This time, I knew to ask for help. My doctor sent me for scans, which found a couple of issues, for which I was referred to the gynaecology department at my local hospital, where I was put on the urgent list. Seven months later, I am still waiting to be seen. So much for urgency. As in many countries, Ireland does not place much importance on women’s health. Meanwhile, I have fought with my doctor over HRT, which she refuses [probably quite sensibly] to prescribe until I have been seen by a gynae. For my emotional state and lack of sleep, I have twice been offered anti-depressants. It seems it is an acceptable option to dope women rather than give them the treatment they actually need. I don’t blame her, by the way; it is the system which is at fault.
Back in November, I began to search Instagram for some support and inspiration. I found many older women rocking their grey hair, honing their bodies through lifting weights, wearing what they wanted, and some reputable menopause pages. I learned a lot, but I was still dissatisfied. The over-riding message was still all about the body, how you could still look good, could still be fashionable, could keep slim and be attractive, how to diet and lose that ‘menopause belly’, in other words almost entirely pressuring mature women to look and behave a certain way, and reprimanding them if they did not make maximum effort to cling onto their fast-disappearing youth.
I didn’t want that. I wanted something more. And that’s when I turned to the Cailleach.
Listen to the lyrics of this song… you may be called upon to remember them. More soon.
A New Direction
I took a break from writing H A G in June, but not from living it. As part of my H A G journey, I went into the woods for five days with my totally gorgeous friend, Jenni, teachers Lucy Ní hAodhagáin and Rosemary Kavanagh, and a small community of amazing women, who were strangers to me at the beginning, but not at the end. I will tell you more about that another time. The experience affected me quite profoundly in many ways. I had expected to come back and immediately write a newsletter to you all about it, but I had so much still to process, both about myself, and about this publication.
As I mentioned earlier in this text, when I set out to create H A G, I intended for it to be a community space for like-minded women, and the men who know and love them. This newsletter has gained just under 4000 subscribers… that’s quite a community!
THANK YOU!
Thank you for joining me on this complex journey we are travelling. Thank you for the emails you have sent me, and the comments responding to my newsletters. I value your time and thoughts and insights. I appreciate every one of you. We are all in this together.
But I haven’t yet managed to bring us together as a community. I now find myself with the time to devote to this task, and I am so excited to see where we go from here!
So, what’s happening? Well, the monthly newsletter, which has brought us together, will stay the same. However, I have so much more to share, but don’t worry, I do not intend to suddenly start spamming you with lots of emails… our inboxes are full enough as it is.
I do, though, want to make myself accountable by sharing the results of all the lessons I have learned from the Cailleach, that I have been writing about these past six months. I also want to introduce you to the women I admire, past and present, historical and mythical. I have plants and concoctions which have made a difference in my life that I would like to share with you. And I want to take you to Ireland’s ancient places and tell you about the women associated with them. Also, if you feel you would like to share your H A G story with this community, I would like to open some space for you to do that here, too. This can all be achieved by the addition of a single newsletter. Like the first, this one will also be long-form, a resource you can dip in and out of as you please.
In terms of community, I would like to invite you to some informal, friendly, in-person gatherings at places associated with the Cailleach, mostly at held at Loughcrew, though, if I’m honest, as it is a place which has always called to me, ever since my first visit. I also intend to open the Chat facility that comes with this newsletter, which I will call the Cailleach’s Circle, so we can communicate with each other directly without emails and newsletters, in a fun and informal and impromptu way.
All of this is going to take my time and commitment, so the second newsletter and the Cailleach’s Circle will be available only to paid subscribers. There are two reasons for this. Firstly, I have been creating free content since I began blogging back in 2012, and I have been happy to do so, because it has brought me into contact with like-minded people all around the world, and that is a privilege. However, I have always believed that those who feel the urge to create should be paid for their labour. This is important to me. It’s fair. Yet there is an expectation in modern society for writers and musicians in particular, to give away their work for free. You would expect to pay for a book or a magazine or to watch a movie in a cinema; you subscribe to Netflix for your movies, and to Spotify for your music. That said, the first newsletter each month and the gatherings will remain free to all subscribers. The second reason is that I want the Cailleach’s Circle and the second newsletter to be safe spaces for us to share stories and personal experiences in a supportive environment; we all know how toxic social media has become. I feel that trolls are less likely to invade paid spaces.
I have other plans for the future of H A G, too, because there is so much we can achieve together. But more about that in good time, when those plans have solidified.
So why subscribe to H A G?
Well, you will be supporting my work, and I can’t thank you enough for that! And I’m guessing you’re something like me, fed up with the old stereotypes and negativity surrounding female aging, and the urge to retain our youth or become invisible. And maybe you want to learn more about the Cailleach, and Ireland’s ancient places.
H A G offers you an alternative. Here, you are free to be your age, in fact you are encouraged to revel in it, in all the things your changing body has enabled you to feel and do, and feel proud of all the experience and wisdoms you have acquired. I hope that through the supportive community we will develop here, your confidence will be boosted, that you will find ways to reconnect with nature, landscape and your own creativity. I hope the Cailleach Project will help you navigate your own path through your H A G years, as I am endeavouring to do with my own. I hope we can learn as much from each other, as we learn from the Cailleach.
Today, I’m grateful: to you, for your support so far. Thank you for tagging along and reading my words. For the blessing in disguise which has gifted me more time to devote to this project, and for the inspiration which comes from studying the stories of the Cailleach. She is helping me with my lack of confidence (still shaky, but working on it!), imposter syndrome (not sure that little voice will ever go away, but learning to ignore it), and face my fears (I did not realise I had so many!). She has helped me to find healing as I learn to navigate my H A G years. I hope she will do the same for you.
Here is what you’ll be supporting
Free subscribers: Monthly Newsletter no. 1, which includes an essay on the Cailleach, a discussion of 5 quotes, or ‘wisdoms’ which are relevant to the topic, and lessons from the Cailleach; commenting, and the gatherings.
For this you pay nothing - zilch - nada - except of course the investment of your own sweet time in the reading!
Paid subscribers: Monthly Newsletter no. 1 [see above] and Monthly Newsletter no. 2, which will include the impact of the Cailleach’s lessons, an ancient site report and essay on the women associated with it, an interview or history of a woman I find inspiring, a recipe using foraged ingredients which may be a food or drink, medicine or skin-care, and space for the sharing of your own stories, should you wish to, commenting, the Cailleach’s Circle (chat) where you can get to know me and each other, ask questions, share knowledge and support, and the gatherings.
Normally, all this would cost €8 for a monthly subscription, or €80 for an annual subscription, but until Friday 14th July 2023, subscribers will receive a discount of 38%, reducing the cost to only €5 [monthly] and €50 [annual]… not just for a year, but forever! Click the button to find out more.
All of this comes to you without annoying ads, affiliate links, pop-ups, SEO clickbait, and also without any of the anger and nastiness of trolls so prevalent on regular social media, blogs, and other online spaces.
Is there anything I’ve missed? What would you like to to see included in this offer?
Go raibh maith agat! Thank you for reading and being here! Beanachtai!
Just thinking more while taking a bath after reading your article. What I love about your approach, Ali, is the use of folklore as a living guide. From my own experience, this approach is incredibly wholesome, visionary, and worth trusting above books, YouTubes, and medical consultants that drive me nuts too … as you leave their practices, after paid them and question, “what the hell did I just pay for there?”
Yes, I find that the writings, videos, books etc. are handy extended tools, but its the guided visions from the folklore that’s a challenge to put words to, that really shows us how important this folklore is.
Its not just some dead history, but serves as a real live, timeless, unseen visionary guide. And instead of being a guru feeling some exclusive ‘gift’ to share this, you are saying … “this is what I have learned and am guided by lets get together and share this”. Very handy, and maybe vital, for you living not far from Loughcrew and the lovely facilities nearby.
Also, I will dare say it will be quite balancing to have your presence around Sliabh na Calliagh as it seems there are several men there that seem to have appointed themselves as being ‘in charge’ of things.
It has taken me awhile to find the space to really read this properly. But, as usual, an incredible piece of writing, very open, and naturally very inspiring. I often wondered how you juggled it all through those years, and still wonder even after you have served us you generous bare bones writing. How you will evolve HAG seems very natural, and seemly like a timely time to move on from your museum post. You will need the extra dedication now, and we will all be blessed by it. Hugs for sharing all of this.