I’ve had it with creaky knees and muzzy vision, low energy and heart flutters, temperature extremes and interrupted sleep. I’m fed up with fruitless mid-sentence word hunting, burned pots and aimless trips up the stairs. I’m sick of the aches, the spins, the wobbles, and the fatigue?—?the steadily growing spare tire around my middle in spite of all the yoga, the walking, and the clean, light diet.
The shy, barely-there period followed by the crime-scene gusher. The panic over absolutely nothing?—?sipping tea in my lovely home on a lovely morning with no immediate responsibilities, accompanied by the silly, unspecified panic. The looks that I get from my family?—?eye rolling, exasperated, knowing glances when they know NOTHING!
And they really are very nice people.
I don’t want to take another supplement, visit another practitioner of anything, or slather progesterone cream anywhere, anymore. I do not want to read one more book, one more article, about hormones. I want my cookies, my wine and coffee.
I want to make promises and keep them, I want to have ideas again, and I want to be fun?—?and have fun?—?again.
I’m sick of the unknown. How will I feel tomorrow? Is this me, forever? This new needy, unreliable, weak person?—?am I stuck with her?
Oh, the tedium.
My daughter just flopped on the bed next to me and declared, “I need attention!” Don’t we all, my dear, don’t we all.
A new acupuncturist is counseling me to relax, embrace the process, not push myself too much. Okay, I can do that. I’ve been working on it for FIVE FUCKING YEARS.
But,ti My sister-in-law just went to Paris for three weeks and had the time of her life. I’m reading about a woman, my age, who travels to refugee camps around the world and actually helps people. A close friend just ended an epic, exhausting political campaign. Women all around me are seizing the day and?—?here comes the whine?—?I can’t even do the grocery shopping. Can’t drive very far, suffer wacky nerves in crowds, am generally over-sensitive. Take that to an airport or a refugee camp and you’re asking for trouble.
Patience, everyone says, patience?—?I am just about out of that precious commodity. I had visions of myself at this age?—?traveling, in charge, seizing days. What happened? Did I spend it all, too soon?
If I go to bed tonight feeling like the only crazy, pissed off boomer chick in the world?—?well, I don’t know what I’ll have the energy for, but it won’t be pretty.
Also, is it okay to be just a little bit drunk until this is over?
My yoga teacher has been talking lately about ‘self-truth’ and the fact that most of us are living our stories rather than our truths. I know, I hear it?—?I’m the first one to tune out if things get a little too New-Agey, but this resonated with me.