Happy Halloween Hormones

As you know, my other ongoing saga (besides writer's schlock) is the peri-menopause roller coaster. This does not help me with the challenges of writing and so, today, on Take a Witch to Work Day, I'd like to pause from the serious business of character development, in order to pay homage to the cast of characters currently starring in the Monica show.

The problem isn't so much that I'm dealing with temporary multiple personalities; the problem is trying to guess which one is gonna crawl out of bed every morning. And believe me, it's as much a surprise to me as it is to my increasingly nervous partner. I have found ways to live with Itchy, Bitchy, Sweaty, Sleepy, Bloated, Forgetful and Psycho (although I'd prefer to call her something else - maybe She Who Must Not Be Named.) All of these things are livable. It's the combined effects and the unpredictability that get ya.

If I could get up in the morning and find a little note on my bedside table letting me know who's in charge each day, that would be very helpful. 

Dear Mon, It is I, Bloated. Don't even try the green slacks - you'll just feel bad. Have  a great day.

Or, maybe this:

Dear Mon, If you didn't make a list yesterday, you may as well cancel today. Stay in bed. Love, Forgetful.

Or:

Dear Mon, Itchy and Sweaty here. Just wanted to let you know that whatever you choose to wear today will be unbearable by 1:00 pm. Love you!

And if it's You Know Who, there'd just be a dead rodent or something. Not pleasant, but at least I'd know. Sometimes I don't know it's her until I find myself yelling at the shower for being too wet.

The good news is; today, I am free to be. I am wearing my witch hat as I type this and I look forward to a day of guilt-free witching. I think I'll start by pretending the vacuum is broken. Then, I'll lie and say some kids told me they are coming to trick or treat tonight and I'll go buy candy. Then I'll eat it. (There are no kids - I live on the dark side of the moon.) 

However you spend your day today, remember: It's Halloween! Embrace your inner witch!

Writer's Blah

Having a never-ending supply of opinions, it is a rare thing for me to run out of words. But, it has happened at last. For the past month or so, I have written next to nothing and it's not so much Writer's Block as it is Writer's Blah.
I have been roaming blindly through the land of Perimenopause this past year and things are not improving. While I acknowledge that half the population deals with this particular challenge, I have to say, some women are better equipped to handle this than others.
First of all, I have never given birth, so apart from the usual monthly visit from . . .  (insert family euphemism here), I have no experience with serious hormone fluctuations. And, having had a regular and reasonable cycle, I was not prepared for this new world. I have been blind-sided by a set of symptoms I am ill-equipped to handle.
Earlier this week, in a one-sided conversation with the dog (not a symptom), I heard myself use the word, "jealousness". I kid you not. And when I heard myself say it, I knew immediately it was wrong, but was unable to come up with "jealousy" for several seconds. First it was funny, then disconcerting, then terrifying. Thankfully, the dog had the sense not to laugh because the instant anger thing is also pretty upsetting. (Just ask the unwitting - and unhelpful - Canadian Tire employee I snapped at last week. I'm pretty sure he had it coming, but what the heck? Where is all this rage coming from?)
Two days ago, I started to climb into a hammock for a test drive . . . and one end of it was being held up by my partner!
Today, I tried to get a plumber to write me a receipt he never gave me that, of course, he did give me and here it is in the file where I put it. In the Rock-Paper-Scissors game of life, Hormones beat Brain Cells every time!
I cry about 4 times a day, I'm tired all the time and my mood swings go from euphoric to despondent. Swing time ranges from days to minutes. I'm serious - minutes!
I went to my doctor and told her I wanted to rule out brain tumour or borderline personality disorder and make sure this was all just hormones. I told her I wanted to make sure it wasn't something "real" because I felt somewhat debilitated. She listened to me downplay it and when it was her turn to talk, she started with this: "Well, women have killed themselves, and others." So I smartened up and listened. I now take 634 vitamins per day.
I was told at a writing workshop to "take everything to the page" but there have been a lot of days when I could barely take it to the kettle to make my morning coffee. I'm doing the best that I can and I am greatly encouraged to be sitting here typing right now.
If anyone else is being slapped around by perimenopause, I leave you with this hope: while the average span of perimenopause is 3-4 years, it can last as long as a decade.
Hey, Stupid Guy at Canadian Tire . . . watch your back!