Damn you, menopause! I looked forward to you since I was 14, the age I began MEN-u-strating…
Yes, I was a late bloomer. I was almost in high school before I got my period. Remember back then it was such a badge of honor…the whispering among the various groups in junior high (today’s translation-Middle School) “Did you get it?” and, nobody ever questioned “it” because we all knew what “it” was.
Our rite of passage manual to our pending “womanhood” was the iconic “Are You There God, It’s Me Margaret” penned by the phenomenal Judy Blume. I still have my copy.
So, after almost 30 plus years of suffering cataclysmic cramps, acne, fatigue like no-other and worrying about wearing white pants and finding a purse big enough to accommodate the canoe size pads, I was so anticipating menopause.
Well, be careful of what you wish for…
I started menopause when I was 46. Boom. Last. Period. Ever. September 15, 2008. I know what you’re thinking, how do I know that date. I can’t tell you how, I just do.
Anyway, I was fairly symptom-free. As we know, some of the characteristics of menopause can be irritability. I like to call it bitch-a-bility and I was born with bitch-a-bility so I don’t consider this to be a viable symptom.
What I’ve noticed is that I am much more apt to cry. It’s almost as embarrassing as having an accident, if you know what I mean.
I don’t wear white pants (you’ll find out why in a later blog), so I am safe there. But this crying thing is really wreaking havoc in some of my daily activities. And, I’m not talking about small tears welling up in my eye ducts. I am talking ugly crying. You know, the type where your (or in this case, my) face crinkles up, my nose looks like cauliflower and cue the trembling…that my Fiercely50ish friends is ugly crying.
It literally comes out of nowhere some days. It can be something that makes me happy. Lately, crying has been my emotion, not of choice, when I find myself getting mad. I’ve taken heed to this because I have moved out of the land of hurry-up and the noise has cleared, and I can listen. So, when I find myself getting mad, I try to do the following:
- Self- positive talk
- More self-positive talk
- If that doesn’t work I put on my sunglasses
I may look like a crazy person, but nobody can see my eyes. I’ve used all sorts of excuses when donning my shades including my eyes were just dilated, I’m channeling Jackie O, and the list goes on.
So, I suppose the silver lining here is that I still have emotions.