In my house growing up we had little-to-no secrets when it came to family topics. Of course, we all carried our own individual secrets that we would reveal bits and pieces of in various conversations over the years. Still, I know there are many more to be discovered. π€
One thing that my mom and I, as the women in the house, almost never talked about was the topic of womanhood. πΊ When I started menstruating π©Έ, I simply let my mom know by putting sanitary pads on the list. When I switched to using tampons, I just took my mom’s supply as needed until I was able to pay for my own supply.
We never talked about what it meant, how it felt, the hormones that raged, and all the aspects around this so-called coming-of-age rite.
There was a period of time, a decade or so ago, when I worried about my parents’ future together. My mom seemed to always be in a rage and my dad did not know how to cope with her. He complained he could do nothing right. She complained he could do nothing right. So, at least they agreed on something! π€ͺ
Still, now, looking back I realize that my mom must have been menopausal. π΅βπ«
I remember a few years ago scolding my mom wondering why she and others of her generation never told their children (me) about these issues and possible future experiences when the time came. A part of me always blamed it on the fact that I was adopted and perhaps, she/we thought that the experience couldn’t, or wouldn’t, be the same because we are different ethnically. However, the fact is that women are women and we go through the same process no matter our race.
Thus, here I sit eight months blood-free from the nether regions and fairly blissful about the whole idea. π My BFF and I talk about these things regularly because, well, that’s what BFFs do.β€οΈ In our sharing, we – definitely I – find comfort in knowing that I am not odd or strange in what is happening to my body and mind.
In fact, there have been plenty of times lately when I’ve thought that I am going crazy. If I try to speak to M about my thoughts, hormones, etc. he makes a half-hearted attempt to relate and understand, but he really has no ability to sympathize nor empathize. Thus, I must turn to female friends and together we commiserate over the hot flashes, the changing bodies, the mood swings that could either be our partners, or hormones, or any combination of all, the forget…what was I talking about? Oh yeah, the forgetfulness. π
So, if you are a reader identifying as male and struggle to relate to these topics, I can only recommend that you move on or read everything so that you can try to offer support to your female-identifying family, friends, and partners when the time comes for this second rite of passage into “freedom”. π¬
~Tπ₯πβοΈ