GET A (mid) LIFE

*Many moons ago, an altar ego manifested in me. I came to know her as the MAD Goddess—MAD being short for Middle AgeD. But truly, I thought her notions to be utter madness, for she whispered to me all my wild yearnings to embrace my desires and live my dreams. Gradually, I learned to listen her wisdom. Now, I am becoming crone . . . but my story would not be complete without the Mad Goddess's story.

Right this minute you are being toted along your life’s journey in a caravan of transformation. Your time has come to embrace the metamorphosis of your middle years, your life center. You are not just experiencing mid-life; you are becoming a Middle Aged Goddess. More precisely, you are becoming a MAD Goddess in every mirthful and powerful incarnation the title implies.

Regrettably, too many MAD Goddess women have not broken their chrysalis and spread their wings. Or perhaps, having taken a tentative flight or two, they fear straying out into their new world; capricious spirits haphazardly flitting about in circles, searching for true self. Should you be one of these wayward spirits failing to connect with her deity identity, your search is over. The MAD Goddess lies within. You need only call her name and she will emerge, to take her rightful place of honor.

But who is the MAD Goddess? By what name is she known? She has borne the mantle of many a misnomer; Baby Boomer, Flower Child, Corporate Climber, Yuppie to name a few, stuck smack in the middle of the Sandwich Generation.. From the Baby Boomer's first post-war tide in 1946, up to the last gentle ebb in 1964, more than 38 million females were born into a generation of paradox.

Just as we were born in waves of proliferation, we came of age in surging tides that left a mark on the American landscape. In the Sixties we were the catalyst for social reform and higher consciousness. In the Seventies we pushed open the doors to women’s equality and stormed the bastions of the Good ‘Ol Boys. In the Eighties we conveniently forgot any conscience we ever had, and became vainglorious, corporate-climbers pounding against the glass ceiling.

In our late teens and twenties we clambered out the doors of our parents’ homes as fast as our stacked heels would take us. Our mother’s job was to make a home and raise the children. We decided we could do that and have careers too. After all, men had been doing it for years. We were blinded by the belief that we could have it all. Now we realize that only meant we’d be doing it all—all by ourselves. We go to work and then we come home to work some more. Whose brilliant idea was this anyway?

We are mixed lot, with a lot in common.We proclaimed our mothers’ lives of homemaking and child rearing oppressive and granted ourselves freedom from the constraints of patriarchal society. We vowed to raise our children in a kinder, gentler and much more enlightened way than our parents had raised us – the next generation would grow up to be well adjusted, caring, productive citizens. Wow, what a shock we had in store when we found out kids don’t come with an instruction book, despite Dr. Spock.

Middle aged? You’re not kidding, and now we're stuck in the middle of taking care of parents and children. Despite our bests efforts, the kids seem to be making no attempt to leave the nest. Why on earth would they when it’s so well feathered? Meanwhile, the folks are evermore tugging on our heartstrings and our time. In their day, it was an adult child’s duty to pitch in when the snow needed shoveling, the grass needed mowing or the roof needed patching. Children wouldn’t dream of skipping Sunday dinner with their parents and they can’t understand why you don’t have the time to help pull weeds in the garden or prune the lilacs while the roast is cooking.

We’ve come a long way, baby? It’s more like we’re the lost generation ~ lost in denial and wandering in the desert of despair. No wonder we’re so tired all the time. And hot flashes? It’s about time we got a little hot under the collar.

So what’s a MAD Goddess to do? RECLAIM HER RIGHTFUL SPOT ON THE PEDESTAL. Join the gathering of women discovering the Goddess that lies within us all and slam the lid on this Pandora’s Box we opened. Repeat after me – “I am a MAD Goddess and I’m not going to take it anymore!