Tag Archives: menopause

Not Alone

As I read through posts of friends and acquaintances and people in twitter I’m astounded by the number of people who talk about letting go of anxiety and stress and embracing self-acceptance.

Wow.

So often through the struggles of the last year I felt alone, and quite frankly stupid for my feelings because I’m 49 and I kept telling myself it was nuts to be going through this now.

Today makes me feel so much better.

There’s no right or wrong time for how I feel. I feel how I do when I do. The end.

But I also see that fighting the feelings and letting them get in my head and lead to negative self-talk is something I can work on fixing.

As they said in the Daily Calm today: “Though no one can go back and make a brand new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending.”

Here’s to new endings and accepting me for me in whatever state I’m in.

Happy New Year!

What I’m reading: Atomic Habits (Audible)

What I’m loving: Daily Calm ❤️❤️❤️ and DoTERRA On Guard mouthwash and #LCHF

What I’m writing: So Much for Happily Ever After

Low Carb Helps

I’m a week and half in to my LCHF eating, back on track after months of not worrying about my diet.

10 days.

My acid reflux is gone.

My mood is significantly better.

My menopause symptoms are gone.

I’m thankful for all of that. But the biggest change is in my ankle.

It could just be time after cortisone a month ago, but I think it’s more than that.

My ankle was impinged. Doc said he couldn’t say exactly why, but we were going to try cortisone and if that didn’t work we’d move to exploratory surgery. My ankle is filled with hardware so MRIs can’t tell us anything.

The cortisone made a HUGE difference, but I still had to wear compression socks and boots.

Last Saturday I noticed the pain was gone. Yesterday I had full ankle mobility for the first time in months.

I’m not a doctor, but it’s pretty great that I feel better across the board AND the inflammation in my ankle is gone.

I have an ugly relationship with food. Low Carb helps with that. Hopefully this helps even more!

Me and We.

God uses my tough times to teach me who I am.

I need to remember that.

I’m re-learning who I am, finding me again. A me not tied up in the things I have or my job or the people who depend on me.

It’s different.

It’s honestly strange.

I’m not a blank canvas. My life experiences have made me me. My relationships have made me me.

All of that is good.

But it can be bad too.

This is a season of change, and not just because menopause sucks.

I didn’t realize how much my me was tied into the we that DH brings to my life. Again, not a bad thing. I’ve spent over half my life with Brian and he makes me a better me. That line “he completes me” is absolutely true.

However, life threw us a giant detour and suddenly we are not we. We are me and him in different places at different times FaceTiming and talking and together sometimes.

I didn’t realize how much I depended on Brian to help me be me until this year. Last year it felt like a temporary situation. This year it’s life, our new norm. And I need to deal.

But to do that, to deal, I need to be good with me as me. I need to be grateful for the times there’s a we, but I have to be okay when there’s not, and that’s not easy. I am selfish and whiny and not even a little bit grateful.

More than anything I’m afraid. Left to me I work and watch TV and that’s not living. That’s letting life happen. So it’s time to stop that. It’s time to actually do the things I want to do. To figure out me. To be courageous. To change my mindset and remember how I started this post: God uses my tough times to teach me.

Maybe Me

Empty Nester.

Middle Aged.

Gigi.

Almost 50.

Remember when….

There’s this post that makes the rounds about being 50 and finally knowing what and who you are. About the strength and wisdom that comes with age.

I don’t feel it. I’m smack dab in the middle of my 49th year, and there are times I feel as lost as I was at 25.

Time passes.

The apartment is…well, just is. Not special. Not home. An after-effect of change.

That’s a weird place to be, a psychological shift of seismic proportions I never expected.

Time is fleeting yet infinite. There are no practices, games, lessons, meetings with DD. There’s work and there’s the apartment. I should have so much time to find me. I would have killed for this time to go to the gym, write, learn to cook, read a book, whatever in those early days. Now the time is here, and I watch the news, sports and ABC dramas then take a magnesium and go to bed where I sleep or think about should haves, could haves, would haves. Weird.

That’s it. I’m feeling weird these days. A little lost, a little found. A wanderer, I guess, looking for me.

Weird. Or maybe not. Maybe it’s perfectly normal and weird is not looking.

Maybe it’s menopause. Maybe this entire post is one existential menopausal reflection. Or is it the opposite of existential?

It is what it is.

I am what I am.

49 is an odd place to be. At least now, in this moment.

Wherein I venture into TMI Territory

I thought about starting with one of those clever little stories that make people laugh, but ditched that idea to get straight to the point.

I started menopause early. As in before 40. As in almost a decade ago. (If the word menopause freaks you out, stop reading now because EVERYTHING that follows is about that.)

Dr. said it was unusual but since I was healthy, no big deal.

And I bought that. I mean I had an 18-year-old daughter at home going through all those preparing to leave the nest growing pains. Who the heck cared about a little menopause grumpiness added in for good measure?

The next year I was fumbling through empty nest syndrome AND recovering from a nasty injury. A few extra tears meant nothing.

I’ve gained and lost 140 pounds–70 pounds TWICE–since then. (I’m on the losing side of things again now. It’s Low Carb High Fat for life where I’m concerned from now on. Feel free to eat cake in my presence. I’ll be snacking on a ribeye and maybe a cheese stick.)  I’ve always been a yo-yo dieter, but dear God in Heaven menopause made things crazy.

I gained enough weight this yearbook season to make yearbook distribution a symbolic birth. No kidding. My ability to hold tight to positivity in the face of darkness has switched to snarky sarcastic bitter don’t-mess-with-me-I’ll-go-Mommy-effing-Dearest on you. I’m usually pretty good about keeping those moments to myself….but sometimes it ekes out, and boy is it ugly.

Hot flashes….ha. More like dips into the Lake of Fire.

Simmering rage….uhm…never mind.

Stress…I used to love stress. I used to LIVE for those double deadline computer crashes, teenage drama, come on guys let’s have a dance party moments. Let’s just say there’s been a flip in feelings there. And OhMyGod if a kid gets mouthy, something I used to laugh off…no. Just no. I have to literally bite my tongue.

Exercise helps. Low carb helps. Escaping into a great book helps. Large groups of people make me want to rip my hair out. Large groups of rude people nearly send me over the edge. This year it’s like I’m not even me.

I’m giving it three months to get better, and if it’s not better, I’m going to the doctor and saying give me the hormones who cares about the side effects. It’s that or take up daily doses of tequila. Never mind. Tequila gives me hot flashes and God knows if I have more of those I’m liable to find out that X-Files about spontaneous combustion was actually based on fact.

So pray, people, pray. Something has to change.