Having said that, here’s a warning for you, dear reader: If you have a link to an article about someone who actually did die of perimenopause, keep it to yourself. Or else.
I don’t know what cosmic allignment of planets decided that women of a certain age – the very people who keep the world spinning on its axis – should have so much @%#&! piled on them all at once. Grieving over the emptiness of the nest AND still getting to pay more each month for the kids’ medical bills than for a car payment. Cramps, monthly migraines, and Kotex AND sweat-soaked hot flashes, sleepless nights, and wild mood swings.
Rant #254 about the evils of perimenopause: In any given two-minute period I might go from crying over a Fabreeze commercial to rabid pit bull snarls because someone’s left sticky spots on the countertop. In another context, I might go from zipping around the church office spreading joy and light one minute, and the next minute have to be restrained from slapping a congregation member who has a “tone” in her voice. Every day. All day long. Get used to it, folks. This is what female and 50 looks like. And yet, The Husband, in his infinite naivity, continues to ask and ask AND ASK “Is there something bothering you? Have I done something? You seem so upset.”
I do not care to explain twenty times a day that crazy-ass fluctuations in my body’s hormones have me in a death grip. How about, instead, if everyone else in the world just shuts the @%#&! up and locks themselves up in a warm, cozy spot until it’s safe to come out? That would be really nice.
I read a lovely, hopeful article not to long ago that explained how perimenopause works. Turns out, if your symptoms start when you still have several more years to enjoy the cramps, monthly migraines, and Kotex, it doesn’t mean your body is cleverly getting both types of torture out of the way more quickly and efficiently. Heavens, no! It simply means the sweat-soaked hot flashes, sleepless nights, and wild mood swings are going to last that much longer. Maybe up to ten years! Isn’t that fun? (And, sadly, this exciting news was confirmed by my trusted G.P.).
I’m about four years in.
A little word to my family, friends, and coworkers:
You have been warned.