How quickly we forget

Years ago, and well into my seventh month of pregnancy in New York City, it occurred to me one day that, as I would be unable to run from a fast predator, I was lucky not to run into an urban panther. These weekly blogs will consider women's lives from the perspective of one who is now older.

It seems incredible to me that I have nearly forgotten I ever had a menstrual cycle. This was something I did every month for 40 years, and it was gone from my consciousness within 12 months. In six years or so, it’s entirely out of my memory. 

There’s no stash of feminine hygiene products in the glove compartment of my car or at the bottom of my purse. I don’t have to check the sheets on the bed for stains. My consumption of ibuprofen is down to nearly zero. I have no idea where the hot water bottle is, or even if I still own one.

These alone could be reason for post-menopausal glee, but there’s more. My head is not fogged with hormones. I can trust my moods -- and there are fewer of them. I can make up my mind. My view of myself is not subject to careening extremes.

We’ve all heard that old age is not for sissies. Well, being a woman is not for the weak -- being a menstruating woman takes strength. Although I’m still active, I doubt I’d have the energy now for a monthly cycle; the complexity of chemical and physical changes involved is quite costly energetically.

There is a kind of resistance, an inner resilience, needed to undergo these physical changes every month. A woman has to find a way to come to terms with her cycle, in order to live with it and not be ruled by it. I seriously doubt if you asked some young women what they would like to do with one week every month, that any would say she wanted to bleed. Despite our preferences, that is what happens; it is only smart and self-nurturing to be okay with it.

Perhaps we can think about having a menstrual cycle as training for learning what is important in life. We learn we are not in control of everything, so we don’t have to waste any more time or energy chasing that fallacy. We learn to listen to our bodies, so we get to know what we need. We learn that nothing lasts forever, so we aren’t paralyzed when change occurs.

Somehow this impressive toughness of women became seen in our culture as weakness. But that makes no sense. If you just take a clinical look at what goes on physically, emotionally, psychologically in a woman’s body every month, you come away impressed and awed.

The weaker sex? Not by a long shot.