It’s probably time to get some of this out.
I’m struggling these days. Having a really rough time of it. Is this the beginning of menopause? Is that why I’m anxious, why I’ve lost the ability to control my mood swings, why I’m more and more certain I’m going crazy and not even doing it with a quiet dignity? If so, someone should probably let my reproductive system know that it can start letting up with the menstrual cycles. Because Aunt Flo keeps coming around. Like. Fucking. Clockwork. And I’d swear my periods are almost exuberant now. Like, hey, I’m here again!! I know you were counting on menopause, so sex will no longer be a CSI episode and so maybe, just maybe you might get rid of those horrific migraines and shed that Topamax dependency. But Huzzah! and Shazam! I’m back, motherfucker!! Grab yourself some ‘pons and settle in because I’m back for a FULL FUCKING WEEK because that’s how I roll. Yep, that’s right. I haven’t even been able to settle back into a shortened visit with the crimson tide. Nope, not me. I’m an overachiever. In fact, I’m such an overachiever that I paid money to get my lining all burned up (Well, sorry, but that’s the real story and you need to stop being so queasy.) and STILL my period returned. The very next cycle. I. Kid. You. Not.
But regardless of all that, I certainly think there are some signs that point to me being perimenopausal. Which is real fantastic. Brava/Bravo on that timing. It’s grand. Because I’ve got some other shit going down. I’m trying to deal with stuff in my professional life. Some of it seriously awesome. Like AWESOME, awesome. And some of it very much less than awesome. Like Mad Men-era fucked-up. When people say they want to return to the days of the 50’s, I always give them the side-eye and quickly move to an alternate location. I mentally remove that person from the approved people list. I adored Mad Men. But not because I thought it might have been cool to have lived then. People, the fetid underbelly of that period in history is not to be taken lightly, and if you want to return to those days of yore, please don’t drag me back there with you. Things are bad enough now. I’m seriously terrified that the navel orange combover guy is going to be our next President. Hmmmm. He’d fit right in on Mad Men. Wait, I digress. I digress quite a bit. But, hell, add that to my list of bad shit messing with my anxiety level these days.
I have a family. So, let’s add that to the list. If your family isn’t adding to your stress level, then you should look around. Because those people have moved out. And this is where I draw the line. I can’t talk about why they add stress because I haven’t gotten their ok to discuss it. I once published something that met with resistance in this household, and I resolved never to do so again. But I’ll say this, parenting is hard. Marriage is hard.
Last but not least, it’s my personality. I have three key people that have been critical in making sure I’ve remained sane lately. One of them has known me in the past and in the present, and I keep reminding myself to ask him if I was this scattered and strange when I was younger. Some day I’ll remember to ask because I think it might be valuable intel. I spoke to one of these key people this morning, and she reminded me to stop and focus on the here and now. It made me realize that my mind is constantly racing. It’s restless and I never feel quite like I have control of my thoughts. I know that sounds scary, but I actually love that feeling (although it’s not good for meditation). It’s the engine that drives my creativity, but it’s death to my sanity these days. I got off of the phone with her and grabbed a Sharpie. I wrote “This moment now” on my hand, and I’ve been looking at it periodically since. It’s almost unbearably cheesy, I know, but I feel like that might help me focus a bit on giving more weight to everything and squeeze more joy out of my life right now. And yikes do I need that!
So, bottom line? This is really all a big math problem.
+ WORK + FAMILY + =