Softening and Sweetening

A beloved friend of mine once told me that I was softening and sweetening into myself. (What a phrase! It still carries me.) That was nearly twenty-five years ago when we were working together in a community-loved indie bookshop. She reminded me that there is space for me in the world with my open heart and too-much-love-for-this-world sensitivity. I was coming out of a spiritual night into glaring sunlight, and was determined to do my part to help the world in a way that felt like my most true self. I put my head down and held several jobs while I went to grad school so I could do humanitarian work, which I did for years from the safety of my laptop instead of among the literal and emotional landmines in the field. This subject matter is not for the faint of heart, and friends much braver than myself have sacrificed in countless ways to do this meaningful work in a world fraught with injustice and inequity.

Years later, I joined the motherhood tribe, which has been the most raw, beautiful, and spiritual experience of my life. It requires surrendering to imperfection and self-neglect, characteristics vibrating with universality for most exhausted parents and caregivers. And yet, like my love, my gratitude for getting to guide small humans has been vast. 

Nearly a decade in, I received an agonizing breast cancer diagnosis and a harrowing year of treatments. Now in remission, I have finally crawled out of my protective cocoon, unfolding in a life-affirming but somewhat cautious way, like crumpled Icelandic poppies stretching towards the sun. The reality of being able to live for my young children — whereas so many beautiful souls cruelly do not get to — has led me to feel, for the first time ever, able to share my heart with the world.

I’ve learned so many things from my experience and the kindnesses I received from my loved ones and friends. In my newly awakened state, I’ve learned that it’s okay to take some time to rest, to ask my kids to get themselves a snack so that I can stretch, read, or just be able to think straight in a quiet room all by myself. I learned that I need a great deal of sleep, that my bedtime is far closer to my kids’ schedule than my husband’s and that of most other adults. I learned that taking walks in nature is vital for my feeling whole. I learned to finally listen to my body and my instincts leading to my own care. When I remember to, I take small moments to mother myself. I finally feel like I am in my own corner, giving myself grace like a good friend.

Newly concentrating on my health and self-care, as well as having a school-age daughter, has had me reflecting deeply upon what women and girls need in order to feel whole and valued in this world. The girls in our lives — whether our daughters, nieces, young sisters, granddaughters, goddaughters, mentees, or simply young friends — need to know that we treasure them, that we hold their precious, growing hearts within our own, that we are here to both shelter them and give them the space to breathe, dream, and feel safe. They are growing into women, and will need the courage and strength of us standing alongside them.

In my fledgling but steadfast self-care mission, I became entirely overwhelmed with the need to write a book where girls, women, and menstruators could chronicle the changes in their bodies, notate when their periods have arrived, and tune into the various changes we all experience in our body, mind, and heart spaces as we go through our lives. I thought about how I, like millions (or billions?) of other women, have been asked about my menstruation patterns by my gynecologists, doctors, and therapists over decades — and how I have had truly no consistent or comprehensive record of them. I was awestruck by all that we go through — periods, adolescence, venturing into the world alone, social pressures and stress, pregnancy, childbirth, breastfeeding, infertility, miscarriages, health challenges, years of poor sleep, perimenopause, early or medically induced menopause, natural menopause, and aging — trying to stay relevant when we know deep in our bones that we are worlds more than just relevant, we are freaking imbued with electrifying strength, bravery, and hard-earned good sense and wisdom.

After brutal medical treatments threw my hormones and body into tumult and dysfunction, I knew I had to find a way for women and girls to capture and honor all that our bodies go through in our lives. So much of what we experience is forgotten and never documented. It astonishes me that we do not have intimate knowledge of our very own bodies’ patterns, changes, and the massive events that have shaped us. Maybe such a record would give us comfort and force us to focus on our well-being, and maybe it could even save some of our lives, if we begin paying close attention to what our bodies are telling us.

I immediately set about creating Twelve Moons — a sacred calendar book and journal to accompany us throughout our lives — which will enable us to chronicle the marvelous story of our bodies’ time on this earth. It can be a personal treasury, and we can also bring it to our various healthcare appointments so that our practitioners have a more complete picture of our histories so they can support us to be our most healthy selves. 

Twelve Moons has been designed for girls who are entering their rite of passage into womanhood, as well as women who have had menstrual cycles for decades, and women who are decades past menopause. It’s for all of us. It’s been a wild ride conceiving a calendar that is entirely customizable and can be used from this moment forward, or can begin recording women’s periods going back decades with the help of old journals and calendars we’ve kept over the years. Noticing our monthly patterns, seasonal changes, and year-by-year shifts is invaluable information in the lives and health journeys of all of us.

You can record your period, ovulation, and the various body changes, feelings, or symptoms that occur in your everyday life. Traumas, stresses, all of it. It’s helpful for noting side effects of medications, IVF, HRT, hormone treatments for cancer, endometriosis or other diagnoses, and gender-affirming hormone therapy. We have a lifetime of change, tumult, and fortune that we can no longer ignore and must to draw strength from. And, importantly — maturing women’s monthly and seasonal observations are of seminal importance in order to protect their health and respond to changing physical, nutritional, and emotional needs. We all need this support and evidence, the recording of our life’s history.

We are really lucky that in this moment in history, menstruation and menopause are being catalyzed and emerging from the binding of unwelcome shame, stigma, and societal stereotypes. Younger generations are freed from the embarrassing care products that many of us had to endure, and they can now choose from hip period undies or menstrual cups and discs, reusable pads, or go with traditional tampons and pads. And it seems to me that the pause in perimenopause, menopause, and postmenopause supports our reframing our consciousness and calling upon ourselves to rest and reflect on all that we have accomplished and lived through. Most importantly, this message: We are not done yet. Menopause is not our swan song.

Twelve Moons is designed to be a nurturing but straight-up testament to the lives we’ve lived  — whether we have had to brave them or triumph over endless hurdles, or have been able to live as inspired, supported, and thriving beings. It’s a way to record our beautiful bodies’ lives, write our own history book. It’s something just for us, and if we wish, it’s also something to share with the young women who are starting from scratch, our companions in our own generation, and the sage older women who have been showing us the way forward.

The labor of love that has become Twelve Moons is, in fact, my softening and sweetening into myself, the sharing of my heartfelt wish for all girls and women to be able to bear witness to the changes of their body, to notice imbalances, pay careful attention, and be assured that we are caring for ourselves. Our stories are ongoing and never over. We are not alone. We are half of the humans on this beautiful spinning planet, and we deserve to have a voice and a record of our lives.