This is how the day started:
I’m up all night hot flashing and using the bathroom. Because I’m up so much, insomnia steps in. Stupid stuff swirls around in my sleepless brain like leaves in a wind storm. Did I turn the stove off after dinner? Are the garbage can lids secure enough to keep the raccoons out of the trash tonight? Did I remember to pay my out-of-control water bill? Oh, why did I eat that last meatball? I didn’t need it or want it, but it was just sitting there by its lonesome self on the plate and it was calling my name…
At 5:30 a.m., I decide to get up, slowly shuffling through the house like a disgruntled zombie. After drinking mass quantities of caffeine, the sun is not so offensive anymore, so I hit the walking trail for a few laps. When I get back home, my legs ache and my skin is sore under the bra line. Why? Because I’m chafed. Chafed! I’m too young to get chafed, even if it’s humid and 95 degrees out.
The thought of chafing leads me down an unhappy trail of self-consciousness. I’m cresting on another wicked mood swing and
have no clue how long it will last. My daughter whispers to her younger brother, “Don’t bug Mom today, she’s in her dark place.” Time for me to retire to my bat cave and ponder the meaning of life. Alone. My inner wiring has fritzed out, and my behavior has become erratic. Yesterday I cried over a Humana commercial. Today I’m obsessed with Hershey’s Kisses. Last week I went nuts because there were no clean towels left for me to take a shower.
After brooding in my cave for an hour, it’s time to join the land of the living. Music is drifting down the hall. Lady Gaga’s “Born This Way”. Born to chafe and sneak Hershey’s Kisses? Oh god, I hope not. I want to start over in a world where menopause does not exist, or at least has an entirely different meaning, such as “pause for a vacation,” “pause for a Mai Tai” or “pause for cake pops.” Anything but this, a perspiring woman in an “I’m Nuts For Squirrels!” t-shirt, fanning herself with a pink dust pan.
The kids scatter like frightened mice when I emerge from the bedroom. My husband eyes me warily from the couch and quickly
flips the channel to something more soothing than MMA cage wrestling…like polar bears circling a seal. No, no, no! Change the channel quickly! Wait a minute. What are those weird people doing on t.v.? They’re dressed up like dairy cows in a bar and…are you serious? On cable t.v. before midnight? I don’t think I’ll ever drink milk again. Now I know I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight. What is this world coming to? Right now the world under my comforter looks a whole lot better, mood swings and all. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. I’m a conglomeration of Snow White’s dwarfs: Grumpy, Sleepy, Sneezy, and a few of their cousins, Bitchy, Bloaty, Sweaty and Weepy…because baby I was born this way.
I let my husband know how amazed I was at the lack of mood swings menopause was causing me. “Yes,” I stated confidently, “I sure did get lucky not having raging mood hormones.” Pretty sure he did not survive my outburst when he rolled his eyes at my comment. What was his problem anyway??!!
Hahaha! My family has gotten really good at reading my expressions and without a word, can tell the degree of mood I’m in. When they clear the room, it’s a pretty good indication of what my mood is….
Menopause is no fun at all, but this post was hilarious…and a little too familar!
Thanks! Glad you liked it, Karen!
I love this! I got weepy over kids clothes last night. Because my 16 year old son doesn’t wear overalls anymore.
I know I’ll be crying buckets now that the holidays are coming and all those sentimental holiday commercials will air.
Oh yes! I am definitely Sweaty. Also Hungry. 😉
But hopefully not Grumpy!
And we love you JUST THE WAY YOU ARE!!!
Love you too, Diane—thanks!
I love this post Marcia. Sounds like ME!!!
We mid-lifers need to stick together!
Well, it’s got to better from there!
I hope so, otherwise the local grocery store better stock up on more Hershey’s Kisses….
Oh this is me except when I want to crawl in my cave mom comes and hunts me down. I’ve had to learn to be a great actress. Alzheimer’s has even stolen my menopausal breakdowns…The bastard.
Ack—not sure I could handle that. I need my alone time or I’m quite sure I would go insane.
Well done, MeopausalMom. Been there, done that, and I’m still revisited regularly by the schvitzes, despite everyone telling me I’m too old for hot flashes. Oh yeah? How come I have to change T-shirts several times a day–and my workout is waltzing into the kitchen for another cookie or bagel?
Nooooo don’t tell me that! The symptoms keep coming back? I’m doomed. Okay, hand me a cookie, please….
I think we might be twins! I have not been sleeping well at all lately — tossing and turning and sweating like a pig!
It gets to the point where you almost dread going to bed at night, amiright?
You are a VIVID voice for the tired, the weary, the perspiring. Freedom beckons, but will we be 80?
I cannot even imagine what 80 will feel like..although if my 86 yr. old mother is any indication…I’ll still have plenty of blog fodder. But most of it will be potty humor at that age….
Word! Especially the no clean towels part. Why are there never any clean towels?
HUGE pet peeve of mine! I swear my kids use a towel once, then toss it on the floor. Next day, another fresh towel gone. There are NEVER enough towels!!
It certainly is an interesting stage of life! I can relate to the “well, I guess I’ll just get up!” Sometimes it just isn’t worth the effort to try and go back to sleep, especially when I know the alarm is going to wrest me from some deep dream as soon as I get there…
Isn’t that the worst? I stare at the glowing numbers on the clock for hours…and just as I feel myself drifting off to sleep, the alarm goes off. GRRRRR!