I've been going through menopause for what seems like years now - I don't recall mood swings ( though others might ) or irritability ( other than normal ) but I do have night sweats and lately the hot flashes have been in fine form. They strike out of nowhere and with no warning - suddenly the back of my hair is wet, sweat is pouring down my back and into my eyes and my temper flares at the nearest target. Over the weekend, all this was accompanied by a vaugue sense of nausea and some not so vague cold chills. With what I hoped was a deadly serious tone of voice, I looked at each of the animals and warned them, "Trifle with me at your peril."
This is as close as I can come to understanding how a mind and body can be in conflict or how one can betray the other. Chemistry simply takes over and wreaks havoc and there's nothing I can do except wait it out. Being in control is an illusion that simply evaporates in the face of these attacks, attacks that go straight to my sense of self and dignity. Given no choice in the matter, I'm forced to stop whatever I'm doing, put aside my vanity and face the fact that I can't will this away. A hot flash doesn't care that I've just gotten my makeup done or my hair right or that I'm in the middle of taking a picture or an intimate conversation or on my way to a wedding.
I resent menopause. Worse, I can't beat it and I can't find a saving grace in going through it. I feel targeted by my gender and age and find myself bitterly thinking that if men had hot flashes, we'd have a cure. And that's the most rational menopausal thought I have - the rest are too inside out and upside down to even mention.
So I try to cowboy up, stand straight, get a grip and remember that in the grand scheme of things, a little menopausal madness is meaningless and that it will pass in the fullness of time. Unless, like the bad witch in "The Wizard of Oz", I should melt first.
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