Menopause is Weird

If I had known more and been better educated about perimenopause I would have realized I was fully in the midst of it in my forties. Instead, I was baffled by the changes in the way my body was starting to react to certain, normal, everyday things I had long taken for granted. My morning monster mug of energizing coffee started giving me anxiety and heart palpitations. The patch of skin between my eyebrows was breaking out in some sort of flaky rash. I was putting on weight out of nowhere, it seemed. I also began to feel...flat. Things that used to bring me great joy and excitement now brought very little of the same. For years I had been a collector of transferware dishes and other collectibles. The thrill of the hunt got me out the door and to the thrift shops and garage sales. Now, when I spotted a potential find I was like that Pete Davidson character on Saturday Night Live who when asked to do something potentially amazing or crazy, just shrugs and says an underwhelmed, "Okay". Up until my mid to late forties, I could still get carried away with ethereal highs and devastating lows of emotion. Now, there was just more anxiety, occasional bouts of inexplicable tears and way less outbursts of delight. And more headaches. Sad. 

Interestingly, it was my husband who first noticed some of my symptoms as being perimenopause. When he had worked at the big hotel by the lake he was the head of a department of about eighty women, many of them middle aged. In the summer he noticed they were always trying to cool off. He bought fans and brought them popsicles, regularly. He noticed they were often in tears. He learned to be much more understanding and patient with them. Thank you hotel ladies! 

I have been a late bloomer all my life, and I didn't start having any hot flashes until a couple of years ago. Even then, they have not been a major symptom for me...yet. Lack of sleep has been my major challenge. Sleep medication has become my trusted friend. I use it sparingly as I try to employ more natural methods of encouraging sleep like magnesium bis-glycinate and meditation, but I can honestly say prescription sleep meds have been a life-saver more times than I can count. 

The internet is an enlightening and often overwhelming source of information on perimenopause and menopause. A tiny bit late in the game for me, but very handy for those in their mid thirties and onwards. Being able to identify and relate to what other women are dealing with is a huge plus. I remember the first time I came upon a list of symptoms posted by one good source. It was a revelation. Itchy ears? Check. Frozen shoulder? Check. Pain in your hip? Check. Caffeine making you anxious? Check. Increased sinus issues? Check. Wide awake at 3 am? Check. Dry, itchy skin? Check. Racing heart rate? Check. Just not feeling like the old you? Double-underlined-in-bright-red-ink, checkity check check! Other symptoms are minor for me. For example, I don't have (many) wild mood swings or (much) rage, but I am very sympathetic to those who do. Brain fog? I've had a head injury, so that one's already part of the picture. One thing's for sure, I understand my mother much more now. She had a hard time during 'The Change'. She barely slept with the night sweats she was enduring. She developed much less patience, but (mostly) repressed it. She felt off a lot of the time. I get it now, Mom!

The internet can also be a source of fear-based marketing for we women of a certain age. Strength train or your bones will turn to chalk, so you must walk your ten thousand steps in this weighted vest! Take this seventy-five dollar supplement or suffer dire consequences! Your body is drying out and you're going to look like the crypt keeper if you don't ingest these oils! Women who don't take Vitamin D get dementia six hundred times more than women who don't! Your doctor was wrong about hormone replacement causing cancer, but you could develop blood clots! EAT ALL THE PROTEIN but somehow lessen your cholesterol intake! 

My doctor when I asked him for some advice on dealing with my symptoms: "Oh, we don't know that much about menopause" (Sees the glint of steel in my eyes) "But-but-but some women say such-and-such herbal supplement decreases their symptoms by about twenty-five percent. Can I offer you a new kind of sleeping pill?" Poor guy. It would be easier for him if I simply had a heart condition. (At least I haven't completely lost my sense of humour. Also a life saver.)

I'm in the late stage of perimenopause. I feel I'm gaining some of my equilibrium back, but I am not the same person I was before this whole experience. The last ten years have been rather punishing. If not 'gold tested in fire' I've definitely been 'cheese tested in frying pan'. Perhaps all this menopause stuff sets us up well for the indignities of old age, which, as Bette Davis* said "ain't no place for sissies." 

My advice to young women? Enjoy your estrogen while you've got it. Really.

Until next time, 

Rebecca

*I've always thought Mae West said this, but the internet says not. 

Hoping Mechanisms

One day last week I let myself get buried by all the commentary blasting out from social media on the current events in our world. I felt desperate and sad and despairing and afraid, and I couldn't get to sleep that night. I vowed to not let that happen again, and so far this week I have not. Watching the news to stay in the loop is one thing. Absorbing all the ways in which celebrities and various social media regulars emotionally share their responses to it is quite another. I am not saying they don't have the perfect right to share their responses, it's just that I don't have to subscribe to all of it. The human body was not created to be a full-time disaster response machine. We need to be informed, yes, but we also need fresh air, we need healthy boundaries, we need creative outlets and meaningful pursuits, we need community, and we need, most of all, hope.

I remember during the first year of the Covid pandemic, someone wisely said that how you respond to crisis affects how your children will respond, so be calm and carry on. Answer their questions simply and honestly but don't dwell on the negative and don't freak out every time the news gets worse. Go to the trusted source for advice on how to cope. For me that was listening to Bonnie Henry calmly and compassionately deliver her updates. She never failed to help me feel under control and hopeful that we would all get through that trying time together. For anxious me with one teenager still living at home, staying visibly calm all the time was a tall order. I had to develop a routine of coping with my anxiety as I had also lost my job due to Covid. I went for long walks every day listening to a lot of Steve Martin and the Steep Canyon Rangers. I made healthy food for my family. I did little art projects. I reached out to family and friends. I watched the World War II-era mystery series Foyle's War from start to finish to remind myself that humanity had lived through tough times before and we would survive...well, most of us would. 

The lessons of the Covid pandemic still apply in the bizarre world climate of today. Having access to 24/7 news and commentary doesn't mean we don't have the power to choose when and how much we absorb. We are all different. Some people can take a lot. My husband for one. He can get up in the morning and hit the internet on full blast. It doesn't seem to put him on the wrong foot for the day. I have to ease in with 'coffee and contemplation' as my brother-in-law Brent calls it, with some prayer to help me keep perspective, journal writing, Wordle and Connections puzzles. Then, I might look online for some funny content. I'm not ready for anything more serious until at least mid morning. At least one day per week I avoid social media altogether to concentrate on creative projects. I need that healthy boundary to remain hopeful and would argue that most of us do.

Years ago my eldest son came home from high school and said, "Hey Mom, do you want to hear the world's shortest poem? I heard it in English class today." "Sure" I said. "Okay, here it is" he said. 

Hope? Nope.

That was the poem. Although probably the honest feeling of the poet when they wrote it, flat out depressing. 

I prefer this one by Emily Dickinson:

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -

And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -

And sore must be the storm -

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -

And on the strangest Sea -

Yet - never - in Extremity,

It asked a crumb - of me.

Hang on to your little bird, friends. We will get through this.

'til next time, 

Rebecca