Menopause is the ultimate take no-sh*t era, because our boundaries are becoming stronger, our respect is becoming more genuine, and we have stronger values alongside our deeper wisdom. When they forced me into menopause, I initially didn’t realize it was such a gift. My bones are becoming brittle, my hair is thinning, and I have hot flashes. My hot flashes seem unique to me, but it feels like my body flushes – that feeling when your face is hot with shame, except it is my entire body and it is not shame, it is pride.

I am proud that in a society loaded with sexism and ageism, despite it, as we women get older, we just keep getting better, refining over time, and it is a best kept secret. We are goddesses. And, we are indeed mystical. Our bodies make babies and milk to feed our babies and our breasts of ‘liquid gold’ have the magic and power to sooth and seduce, all in a day.

So, as my body fills with the heat of pride, I think, “Perhaps when I am 100, I will be a Magical Mother Goddess Queen basking in divine glowing light, celestial and all-knowing.” Nightly, I have vibrant, complex dreams that I hope one day I will be able to decode. Perhaps they will give me answers to what my future will hold, because although I wish to live to 100, it is doubtful.

I have cancer; Metastatic Stage 4 Breast Cancer. While it spread from my breasts, it is present in my lymph system, lungs, and I have 3 large tumors that have nested between my heart and aorta. It is impossible to surgically remove the tumors, because they are in such a precarious position. My prognosis, before treatment, was 4 months to unknown. I was told that it depended on the treatment working and it possibly wouldn’t, which is why it was all a question mark.

I used to envision myself as a long, wavy haired hippie living in a cabin on land in the mountains, amongst the trees. I wasn’t sure what color my hair would be, because I have that reddish blondish hair that seems to turn a rusty white as the saturation fades. I’d wear kimonos and listen to wind chimes clinking in the breeze. Chickens and goats would roam free, feeding me with their eggs and milk. I’d rock on the porch, knitting blankets and hats to sell at the farmer market in the nearest town. I’d have an old vw bus, red or orange. I would make soap and tinctures that the neighbors would buy from me. They’d come to me with their ailments and I’d guide their healing. My cabin would be modest, but have large windows overlooking my gardens. Oh, what a life I’d have, so peaceful.

When I was teenager, I clipped out a picture of my dream home. I’d taped it into my jewelry box and looked at it every day. I dreamed of stability and owning something of my own. Dreams are dreams and even though I have been so blessed that many have come true, I could never escape the lingering fear that I’d have cancer. It was deeply rooted into my every day. My twin aunts, both who had cancer themselves, would say, “sorry, my dear, but you’re plagued with the worry gene.” The “worry gene” is what we all attributed to the cause of cancer. Imagine this: worrying about worrying.

In actuality, I have a mutation of the ATM gene. I’ve had cousins and aunts and grandparents who had the BRCA, but some didn’t. It wasn’t until recently that they test for other cancer causing genes and mutations. I was the first person in my family to have the entire testing panel. My mother tested after me and she, too, has the same mutation as me. I imagine that many of my family members who didn’t have answers then, would have their answers now. But they are gone.

So, I was always destined to have cancer and I knew it. Some would say it was a self-fulfilling prophecy and that could be true, too. I don’t know. But I want to tell you how I got here…

That’s all for today. See you soon, babes.

Gilda