emotional healing – Menopause & Malarkey

A Rare Moment of Applause in the Dating-App Wilderness

Every now and then, in the endless scroll of shirtless gym bros, filtered-to-oblivion selfies, and men who lead with their Halloween alter ego like it’s a personality trait…

A hero appears.

Today, that man is Rob, 55.

He did something almost no one on Facebook Dating remembers how to do anymore:
He crafted a profile with structure. With restraint. With logic.

Let’s break down the magic:

✅ Photo #1: A normal, friendly, fully clothed human man

Good lighting. Relaxed expression. No sunglasses indoors. No nostril selfie.
A rare and delightful start.

✅ Real-life pics first, costume pic last

This is the hallmark of a gentleman who understands:

> “My Captain Jack Sparrow moment is a bonus, not a warning.”

The pirate photo wasn’t a threat.
It wasn’t his opener.
It was the dessert at the end of the menu — optional, sweet, and mess-free.

✅ A bio that doesn’t read like an obituary

Simple, straightforward, not dripping with desperation or “I’m just a simple man looking for a simple girl.”
Just enough personality to show he’s real.
Not enough to make you run.

⭐ The M&M Verdict

I swiped right.
Not because I’m picking out a dress.
Not because expectations are sky-high.
But because sometimes you have to acknowledge when someone actually did the homework.

Rob, sir, wherever you are… Menopause & Malarkey salutes you. 🫡
Not for perfection.
Not even for chemistry.
But for remembering the golden rule of online dating:

> “Lead with the man.
Save the pirate for last.” 🦜

Two digital caricatures side-by-side. On the left: a friendly, ‘simple guy’ illustrated with a soft smile, a short haircut, and a plain T-shirt, arms relaxed at his sides, giving warm and approachable energy. On the right: a playful pirate caricature with long hair, a bandana, an eye patch, dramatic rings, and beaded braids, holding one hand near his face in an exaggerated pose. Both figures are drawn with rounded, charming cartoon style. — Humility +Humor=👏🏻👏🏻

A reflection on late-blooming strength, rediscovered creativity, and the surprising places healing takes us.

There are moments in life when you look backward, then forward, then at the ground beneath your feet — and you realize you’re standing somewhere you never imagined, stronger than you expected.

This week, I caught myself feeling something I haven’t felt in a long time:
proud.
grounded.
steady.
And maybe most importantly… ready.

Ready for what?
Not men. Not dating apps. Not romance with a side of mystery shovels.
Ready for me.

Ready to keep writing.

Not the timid scribbles I used to produce in my 20s, but the bold, layered, soulful work that only comes with time — and life — and loss — and joy — and more experience than anyone ever asks for.

My creativity didn’t return quietly.
She came back at 55 with sass, steel, and an entire toolbox of stories she refused to keep inside my chest any longer.
She came with decades of women’s wisdom, mother-worry, step-parent diplomacy, blended family chaos, heartbreak, healing, gray hair earned the honest way, and a bachelor’s degree I fought my way toward at 47.

She came back mature, fierce, vulnerable, funny, gritty, and brilliant in ways my 25-year-old self couldn’t even dream of.

Ready to honor the life I’ve lived.

Two marriages that ended on purpose.
One that ended out of my control.
Daughters who grew into women.
Grandkids who became pure magic in human form.
Parents who left too soon.
A husband whose death changed the shape of my soul.
Jobs, losses, reinventions, dogs with big personalities and tiny bladders, and holding space for my kids when their own hearts broke.

Every bit of it taught me something.
Every bit of it honed me.
Every bit of it brought me here.

Ready to embrace the quiet triumphs.

The kind that don’t make noise.
The kind that happen in soft moments.
The kind that whisper, not shout:

“You made it.
And you’re okay.”

Sometimes that looks like writing a chapter that feels like truth.
Sometimes it looks like house-sitting with three snoring dogs.
Sometimes it looks like remembering you once slept in a room with someone you loved who’s no longer here — and choosing grace for your own heart when it feels unsettled.

And sometimes it looks like taking a bucket-list cruise to Alaska and unknowingly changing the entire trajectory of your life.

Ready for whatever comes next.

Not because I’m fearless.
Not because I’m finished grieving.
Not because life suddenly makes perfect sense.

But because I’m still standing —
and I’m standing taller than before.

Here’s to the late bloomers.
The reinvented.
The resilient.
The women who rise again and again, softer and stronger each time.

And here’s to the muse who came back with a vengeance.
I’ve missed her.
But she came home.
And she brought stories with her.

Tag: emotional healing

⭐ M&M Mini Post: Kudos Where They’re Due

I’m Still Standing — and Somehow Standing Taller