“Why?” asked my manager. “I’m 26. I don’t have kids or a husband, and I’m relatively unattached. If not now, then when? Life will only get more complicated.” My response was well rehearsed. And, as it turns out, well received. I got it. Three months personal leave to do whatever I damn well pleased.
“We have surrounded ourselves with such a bleak picture of who we are and what the world is that unless we ourselves get on — or back on — this path pretty soon we hardly stand much chance of surviving our own culture.”