I went to the eye doctor today. I have this thing going on that I don’t really understand other than in the purest form of irony, I’m running out of tears. Or maybe that’s the opposite of irony, because it feels like a given that I’d eventually hit a drought.
Anyway, there was a nurse that was performing all the pre-exam razzamatazz and mid-question, I apologized and asked her if we could pause so I could remove my jacket. I’m sorry, I explained, but perimenopause and winter jackets indoors don’t seem to mesh well. She smiled, waited for me to partially disrobe, and then, when it was clear I was settled, resumed the pre-exam.
When that part of my visit was complete, she relocated me to a different exam room to wait for the doctor. She started to walk out of the room and then turned around and said: Thanks for saying what you did about menopause. I have a few years on you, but none of my friends really talk about it. Sometimes I wish that someone would talk about it, at all. You know?
Yes, I said, I know.
We chatted for a moment and agreed that the grifters on the internet selling supplements to cure menopausal woes are Satan, and the brain fog is real, and also, there is far too little research conducted in connection with the hormonal changes that women go through.
This is unsurprising of course, because in the United States, a place today that seems to generally loathe women, it jives that little in the way of resources would be put towards exploring how to make them more comfortable. That would require an acknowledgment of our humanity and at least a little compassion.
I’m not an expert on menopause at all. In fact, I know very, very little about it, which seems to be the consensus amongst women, and well, many health care practitioners (including those responsible for women’s health). To be honest, I’m not sure which party’s ignorance is more concerning.
There are inherent challenges to remedying this problem, in addition to the overall apathy that I mentioned above. Notably, women’s bodies are completely different-which is to say that they experience perimenopause and menopause at various ages and have differing symptoms. Even when it comes to shared symptoms, like hot flashes and hair loss- the results vary. And so, it’s hard to nail down a solution. It’s much easier to deal with a simpler problem, like, well, erectile dysfunction.
Except that if you are fixing heterosexual male genitalia without attending to the physical and emotional implications of menopause, it’s quite like replacing a bike tire on a beach bicycle when there’s three feet of snow outside. Sure, you’re prepared, but you aren’t getting very far. You know what I mean?
But we don’t really care about the comfort or safety of women (not just here, but in many places around the world), and so, it doesn’t seem like there’s a good answer. Except that there is- WOMEN! Women need to talk to each other. They need to be honest. They are singularly responsible for starting the revolution. Women must be brave enough to open up about this major change in life. Make jokes, cry, be raw, be vulnerable and talk about the things that feel uncomfortable, because that’s the only way that we are going to move these major issues from the dark into the light.
My running coach started a section of his athletes’ chat space that’s dedicated to the women he coaches. You know what opened up the chat? A mention of menopause.
Bless.
Really.
It’s not easy to open that door, but once there’s even a crack, there are usually several women waiting in line to kick that fucker wide open. Even women who are quieter, more reserved, less “out there” want to talk about this thing that we all go through.
And some had to go through it way earlier than others. There are women who move into menopause extremely prematurely because of genetics or illness or medication. So, their journey, their path, is longer and in some ways, lonelier. They don’t necessarily have peers who are walking beside them. With this in mind, I think that it’s more than a helpful little exercise, to open up, I feel like it’s an obligation, to fellow women.
Women who want to talk but can’t. Women who don’t want to talk. Women who talk and are shut down. Women who don’t even know how they feel and what they want.
We spend a lot of time as a society talking about women’s bodies. A LOT OF TIME. We talk about puberty and child birth. We talk about implants and filler and Botox. We talk about hair extensions and GLP-1s and abdominal muscles. We talk about fake eyelashes and gel manicures and under eye cream. We talk about the perfect concealer and life changing mascara and cream that might do something about your ever-emerging cellulite. We talk about too little muscle and too much and everything in between. We judge and criticize and offer suggestions. Products are pushed and classes are sold and everyone is made to feel like they don’t really measure up because of that one thing that they could maybe fix but maybe not, but they should die trying. Just go down whilst trying to be as perfect as possible.
And we very rarely say that it’s kind of hard, being a woman. It’s beautiful and also, fraught. It’s complicated to be built for childbirth and decide that your body isn’t meant for it, that it can’t do the thing, or you don’t want it to. It’s challenging to be expected to be womanly and curvy and also, slender and bump free. It’s complex when someone wants you to look very stunning naturally but also, to perfectly apply makeup. It’s horrifying when you are really a sentient being- someone funny and intelligent and hard working and thoughtful, and also, maybe you want to look and feel good, but you are expected to be all the things at once, and never struggle. Your period is gross, but it’s also distasteful to talk about losing your period.
But it’s not, and if anyone is going to shift that narrative, it has to be women. And there are a lot of women out there who are pulling hard for the other side, so our side has to be a little louder, and a little more coordinated, and a whole lot happier having these conversations.
Men are our allies and we need them, generally speaking, but in this battle- it has to be us. We have to be the soldiers for our bodies and our health.
Next time you see a woman fanning her ever-reddening face, or crying with a bewildered look on her face, or rubbing her lower back, smile, and tell her you get it. Tell her you get it because you do, and if you don’t, then eventually you will.
And we just have to be in this together.
We have to.
X
L.
thepathtoworthy.com 