I spent years living outside of Boston and loved visiting the Boston Public Garden. If you are lucky enough to ride a Swan Boat on the lagoon or walk by the tulip gardens in spring, you may notice the many weeping willow trees that occupy park space. The willows there were the first to grab my notice as a young 20-something-year-old, and the willow tree now catches my awe wherever I see one.
As I’m navigating the menopause tenure of my life, I find myself feeling like the weeping willow.
Physically
Willowy means being able to arch easily without fracturing. The willow tree branches droop downwards and sway in the breeze, but they do not break. I feel as though parts of me have become droopy and floppy. Gravity is no joke! I have committed to growing older gracefully, not dying my hair, and staying away from any surgeries (not that there’s anything wrong with that! You do you!), but I can see the desire to head in that direction. Getting older is for our 70s and 80s, right? What’s this willow nonsense at 45 and 50?!
I’m learning from the weeping willow that I can become more saggy and not let it reduce me to cracking and falling apart. The willow stands tall and beautiful even though it descends to the ground.
Mentally
Willowy also means adaptable. The seasons may change, but that’s no excuse to be inelastic and rigid. I find myself being a bit more cranky. I’ve even written during cranky spells (see here) and have to slap myself back upwards. No one ever said we would cease changing as we age, yet why did I think I was an exception? I thought I would always be cheerful and not let it decay during my menopause tenure. Oh, it’s decaying and forgetting and complaining.
The physical changes of aging can weigh on us mentally. Reading about menopause brings tears of sadness, but simultaneously, I feel better knowing what I’m going through is within the normal range. The willow only looks more beautiful as it ages! The roots cultivated in the ground provide the stability to hang on and keep going.
