This is for you, ladies, those of you in the thick of it.
The thick of the “change.”
The mid-life one where you feel you’re starting to lose your mind, bits of memory gone rogue like stray planets. Or maybe you flip-flop like a fish on land all night long, throw off covers, pull them back on, stick your leg out from underneath to regulate the heat, the sweats that leave you in a puddle of yourself in the morning. Those nights where your partner grunts and groans, half waking from your unrelenting twitching and turning.
Or maybe you find yourself about to blow like a raging volcano and go off on your dog who got underfoot, your husband who asked if you paid the bills or your teenager, who again, is stuck in his room playing video games.
Let’s face it, this thing, this demon menopause that invades you like an alien making you a slave to hormonal rides that seem to last, well, for years, is a bitch. It’s like nothing else. And all the while you have to keep on going, trudge through the days, take care of aging parents, your mother who’s been repeating things for a few years now, asking the same questions every week, sometimes not remembering names, places. You still have to get food on the table, for yourself, your partner, your kids. The dogs. Don’t forget the dogs.
Oh, and your job, where they expect you to be all even-keel-and-analytical-showing-no-emotion, you have to stay steady for that. The piles of paper flood in through the mailbox or digital versions wind up in your inbox. Bills need to be paid, the house trim painted, the garden weeded.
Oh. My. God.
Once you realize it’s happening, once you feel the foggy brain, the sleep deprivation, the swinging moods, hot flashes, raging irritability you begin your mission.
You try everything to handle it, control it, squash it like a bug. You down the herbal remedies, black cohosh, red clover, don quai. You sprinkle flax seeds on oatmeal, eggs, salads, you eat more greens, give up caffeine.
You up your exercise routine, walk more, get on your yoga mat. You surrender to meditation and commit to 15 minutes a day. You follow the “good sleep” regime, cut out all electronics after 7 pm, buy black out shades, take baths before you go to bed.
But still the memory lapses continue, the brain fog feels like wandering in a bog, often you slither from room to room wondering why you’re there and how you got there. You stand, like a demented deer in the middle of the room, shake your head, feel that pinch of embarrassment about not knowing why you’re there and finally just leave without completing your mission. Whatever it was.
Thankfully no one saw you.
You wonder if dementia is starting early.
You try acupuncture, massage, ayurvedic cleanses.
More meditation.
Journaling.
Eventually, after searching and seeking for some relief, which hasn’t come from all of your efforts, you turn to drugs. The bio-identical hormones. The ones that will replace what your body is losing.
Anything, you think, at this point. I’ll do anything.
Of course, it’s not a quick fix. There are too many renegade parts to this process of unraveling the most fertile years of your life.
You just keep wondering when it will stop. You wonder how long the ride will be and when will you return to the “you” you knew before? The more grounded, less volatile, less sleep deprived, clear headed, in charge, capable woman?
When will she return?
Well, good news ladies!
This will pass. You will get through it. I mean, you don’t really have a choice, do you? Unless you have a temporarily insane moment that takes you and your loved ones out.
So, sit tight.
I promise there is light on the other side of the menopausal tunnel.
Other good news: you’ll be a softer, kinder, more patient, less judgmental version of yourself. Because, if you make it through, you will have been in the menopausal rock tumbler chafing off your sharp edges. You just won’t have any energy left for your own bullshit.
The bad news?
Well, it’s going to take time.
Some say 4 ½ years. Others say 7.
For me, it felt like 10.
But the new you, the one who’s able to sit in the backyard and enjoy the simplicity of cherry blossoms fluttering in the wind or watch bees buzzing from one long lavender stem to the next, she is content. Relaxed.
The brain fog clears, the raucous rage rumbles itself out to a simmer. You find yourself grateful to be calm, sleep well, think clearly. You find yourself grateful for the simplest of moments.
Yes, it will pass.
But if you’re in it now, buckle your seat belt.
Warn your people.
Remind them it’s not personal.
And do your best to be kind and loving to this you that is on a ride of a lifetime.