Embracing the Crone

I've just had one of those milestone birthdays. As my sister's card humorously put it, I celebrated 'the 25th anniversary of my 25th birthday', and turned... 50. 

I had an enjoyable day, celebrating with friends, enjoying cake and Champagne and chocolates, lunch at a local cafe, an evening takeaway, and a generous array of presents. It was a lovely experience, it really was, so why did I struggle to accept my new age? Why does 50 feel so much older than 49?

As a woman, I suppose it's partly the inevitable move to another life phase; one in which you are no longer young and fertile, but where your body, whether you like it or not, will enter menopause. While friends who have already reached that landmark assure me that they feel happier and freer without the monthly tyranny of PMS and periods, there is still a sense of loss. I won't be able to have babies any more. Not that I want to, of course, but even so...

Classically womanhood has been divided into three distinct stages, often represented by the three goddesses of the Moon: the Maiden, the Mother and the Crone. Which means, as I enter my sixth decade, I am moving from Mother to Crone.

Crone, it has to be said, is not the most attractive of terms, with its connotations of ugliness, decrepitude and possibly witchcraft. Yet the crone is more properly viewed as the wise woman. No longer the bearer and carer of children, she can become more fully herself, gaining confidence and independence, perhaps for the first time in her life. 

While modern society's view of the older woman is often dismissive, and she is seen as obsolete – if she is even noticed at all – in earlier times she was respected for her life experience and knowledge, and her advice and wisdom were appreciated and widely sought. 

The crone was the healer with her herbs and charms; the family matriarch who offered support to her children and grandchildren; the village elder who had been through so much that she could be relied upon to know what to do.

So why do we cling to our roles as maidens or mothers, seeking either to look eternally young and seductive, or to live our lives through our offspring? Why are we so afraid of the role of the crone?

I am not saying we need to stop caring about appearance and let the hairs sprout from our chins (although, of course, that's fine too). What I am advocating is that we embrace our new status as women of wisdom, women who have lived and learnt. 

While I no longer look as I did 25 years ago, I like to think that I am a wiser and more confident me than I was back then. I care less about the things I have found not really to matter, and more about those that remain dear to me. I worry less about those things I cannot control, and try to spend my energy more effectively. I have learnt that people can only change themselves, I can't do it for them; and I am getting better at looking after and valuing myself, rather than putting everybody else first.

Most of all, I think I accept myself more than I ever did when I was younger. In my twenties, I was always striving to be enough – pretty enough, clever enough, with enough money and friends and work. In my thirties and forties, the emphasis shifted to my son, and I focused on being a mother instead, with the same attendant anxieties about being good enough.

Now, though, as I step into a new age bracket, the invitation is there to embrace who I truly am, beyond mother or daughter or sister or friend or lover. Who am I? And who do I want to be?

It's time to embrace the crone...