Reading my grandmother's journals with an eye toward how she may have felt during her menopause was a tender and meaningful experience for me. It was inspiring to realize that she lived her life to the fullest, demonstrating the kind of strength unique to women.
The more fiercely I love, the brighter and more beautiful the world can appear. However, each time I feel that joy and connectedness, the more I fear and mourn its loss, even while I still have it. It is in that empty pause that depression is born.
Boobs can make men stupid, and since you can't hide them, you get to witness a lot of stupidity. Being a mother -- and having a boy -- does make me wonder how ingrained men's love for boobs really is. The answer? Pretty damn ingrained.
My feeling is one of having lived in two worlds with Pan Am: one world was glamorous and exciting and filled with a feeling of magical unreality, while the other was all about the reality of human suffering and trauma.