Menopausal meanderings

I think that I am part of a generation that is absolutely defining the new menopause of the future, as indicated by the picture above.  And I am ready and willing to jump on that bandwagon because ready or not, here it comes!

I have experienced signs of peri-menopause for a number of years now in regards to irregular and crazy ass periods.  I have had the occasional moment where I will just go off my rocker temporarily and let something trivial bother me and yell at someone way out of proportion to the situation.  When that happens my kids mutter "geesh what is her problem," and skulk away.  I don't care.  You see, this not caring part is the best part of all!  You could give a flying rat's ass to what other people think about your going ballistic over the mayo being left on the counter.  Truly.


The first thing you need to do as a woman on the edge of "the change," is to understand it.  And really, it's very cool.  It's a complete and total metamorphosis of your body chemistry.  Yeah, you lose all that collagen that keeps your skin taut and supple, and your hormones fluctuate up and down so you get hair growing in all sorts of odd and random places, and in truth there are a lot of sucky things that happen.  But you know, not for ten seconds would I trade who I am today for who I used to be (all taut and unhairy) because there is a freedom in not giving a hoot of what other people think of you that is worth more than all the wrinkle free skin in China.
So the first step you need to take is to embrace it.  And fill yourself with knowledge.  Read books by smart people (I recommend Christiane Northrup's books) and with that knowledge comes power.  I don't have traditional hot flashes, but I run hot.  I watch my teenage son walk around in a t-shirt outside, and I get it.  Right now when I go near fleece I start to hyperventilate.  I feel as though I am claustrophobic and it's going to kill me.


So that's easy, I don't wear fleece.  I also can't wear jackets.  Or scarves.  Oh my gawd, put a scarf around my neck and I freak out.  What is so irritating is that I can be so hot, and then the next thing you know, I am cold.  But not like I had a flash and then I am cold, but like someone turned down the heat and didn't warn me!  Five minutes under a blanket and I am good.  Just as long as no one comes near me with fleece!

It also helps to hear from other people.  One woman, who is on the other side, said that she couldn't wear sweaters for two years.  We learn to adapt -- fleece, sweaters, jackets -- people who live in warm climes never use them, so what is the big deal?  I don't have many friends who I can talk to about symptoms for various and sundry reasons.  A big one is that they have had all such equipment removed.  "Oh, I haven't had a period in years and I take hormones."  Or they have been on some type of hormone replacement therapy since the first signal of menopause hit, so they don't have much to add.  I do wonder of course, if I am making the right decision in  jumping into the menopause pool without assistance (medical or otherwise!).  I say this because I really and truly thought that natural childbirth was the way to go.  And I was wrong.  And I could be super wrong about this, but the one thing I want to do is keep my children hyper aware of what is happening.

My mother jumped on the hormones immediately and I swear to this day she is still struggling to get to the other side.  I envision the other side as a place where it's all smooth sailing and the storms of hormonal influence have abated into a nice gentle flow of easy peasy.  The other side is where I embrace the wisdom that the turmoil of monumental body changes has given to me as a gift for making it through.  With flying colors!

Obviously many women of my age are treating menopause with humor and knowledge and putting it out there in the mainstream.  There are so many aspects that are important:  like you reach a crossroads at the height of menopause that essentially sets the course for the second part of your life.   That is pretty heavy duty stuff, and if you have no clue about it, you might just miss the road signs.  But if you do examine your thoughts and feelings and explain to your family members that your entire body aches right now, not because you climbed Mt. Everest or did Pilates for three hours yesterday, but because it just damn aches and that is the way it is and so shut up, you can accept it.  There are some mornings when I wake up and it feels as though I have slept on a piece of granite instead of a thousands-of-dollars posturepedic mattress.  There are some days I am so tired I don't think I can possibly pick up a pencil.  There are some days when I am so full of energy and have this radiating and pulsing knowledge that I know everything and can do everything ... every day is a crap shoot!  And that is fine.

Yesterday Peter took my car to drop off Maddie's skis and soon after that Charlie texted to say he wanted to be picked up.  The only vehicle outside was Peter's truck.  Which I abhor.  It is huge, it's diesel and noisy and bouncy and I am just not a pick-up type gal!  (Oh those were the days, when being a pick-up type gal did not involve a truck!)
I tried to call him, but his cell phone rang in the basement. GRRRRRR.  I was annoyed at first, then as I realized I was going to have to start that behemoth truck, I became good and pissed.  He loves his damn truck, so why take my car?  I waited as long as I possibly could and then gave in.  My intent was to head out and flag him down and switch vehicles.  I never drive the truck.  Ever.
 This is it minus the dualies.  The dual wheels.  It is huge.  It is forebodingly huge and I never feel comfortable driving it because I am afraid I am going to hit people.  In addition it has a big rack in the back so you can't really see out the back window.  Truck people use those big mirrors.  I just hope I don't hit or kill anyone.  In truth, I avoid driving the truck like the plague!  Okay, so now I am in the truck, and I think I see him coming towards me.  It is hard to judge because all cars going by are covered in six inches of salt and dirt, so they are all the same color.  But I am pretty sure.  As soon as he gets close, I start flashing the lights.  Except I never drive the damn thing so I have just turned the windshield wipers on and off.  Now, here is the defining moment.  Am I going to fricking go nuts or not?  You never know.  I could feel a surge of craziness go through me, and my first thought was to turn around and follow him back home and yell at him and all that, but I was already five minutes into a 30 minute drive and really, was it THAT bad to drive the truck?  Not to mention I would have to turn around, and you can't just do that anywhere.  So then I started to adjust things ... first I had to get the heat off because it was suffocating me.  Figured that out, and then I went to work on the seat.  None of the controls made sense, and I was going forward instead of backward and left instead of right and I messed up that seat good and proper.  That brought me much glee.  GOOD!  When he gets back into his truck he will have a helluva time getting the seat comfortable.  HA!  But then I was like, oh, it's not that big of a deal, whatever.  And it dawned on me ... this was new!  This complete and total withdrawal of nurturing my cause ... of being pissed because he inconvenienced me.  I mean, it wasn't as though I was left without a vehicle, I was just left with one I don't like!  Within five minutes of having spotted him, I was over it.

And that, my friends, would never have happened before.  Oh no.  When I came home he asked me why I hadn't pulled over.  I thought he hadn't seen me at all, but he had, and had turned around and followed me.  He had thought I was going to Maddie's school and switching to the Jeep, so he drove all the way back there and checked.  (Remember, he couldn't call because his cell phone was in the basement.)  So ultimately he knew I would be mad (and really, since he was in that direction already, if he had had his phone he could have just gone to pick up Charlie from there.)  He made a mistake.  Or a flub.  Not a big deal.  And like I said, you would think the depiction of menopausal women is that they would go ballistic over such an event.  But I think it is just the opposite.  I have moved on from my petty feuds ...

... just don't pull out an apple peeler at 10:00 at night and be surprised when I freak out and yell at you because how ridiculous it is to bring that out when all you have to use is a stupid knife to cut up your apple!  (That is what happened last night to Charlie, who was like, geesh, calm down, fine, I won't use the apple peeler.)

It's the simple things.  That make my head spin!