Not for the faint of heart

aka: Perimenopause

Perimenopause is something that most everyone with a uterus experiences. I say most everyone, because I know there are those whose experience is perhaps outside the norm or surgically handled. Those situations are out of the scope of this blog. This entry is chronicling my experience as I enter this “season” (as I have heard it called) of a woman’s life. I have been warned about it’s impending arrival, and I have been monitoring, collecting data, all in anticipation of when the “real symptoms” come.

I think they’re here. Peri has entered the room.

Sadly, I have no idea what to expect. My mom had a hysterectomy before she hit menopause and then went onto HRT (hormone replacement therapy). We didn’t talk much about then about it and unfortunately, she’s not alive now to recall the experience. So as far as family history is concerned, I’m on my own.

It’s possible I had my first hot flash. Maybe not a full hot flash where you break out into spontaneous sweat pouring out of your skin, but I definitely ran very warm before bed the other night. We usually spend our post-dinner time on the couch, catching up on shows or movies, especially when all four of us are home together. Our house is well air conditioned. Even so, the ceiling fan is usually on for someone (other than me) and I wear a blanket to stay warm. I have noticed a little extra thermal-regulation issues of late, running a little hot or cold at odd times, but nothing that would set off alarm bells. That is, until the other night.

When it was time to go upstairs to bed, I noticed that I was unusually warm. Uncomfortably warm. I didn’t notice it when we were watching our show, but as soon as I threw off the blanket, it hit me. The fan, which was usually too much for me, was suddenly not enough. For the first time, I was concerned that I would have a hard time getting to sleep, and I am typically a champion sleeper.

Normally I sleep under the sheet and comforter, tightly snuggled in, and if I get warm I’ll stick out a foot or leg to feel the cooler air. I barely even use the energy to flip my pillow to the cold side. On that night, I couldn’t even tolerate a t-shirt. I tossed the comforter to the foot of the bed and I just laid there, enjoying the cold sheets for a moment, with the flat sheet over me. Technically, even that was too much, but my brain needed something to give me the sense of being tucked in. I laid there, very still, hoping I’d feel a whiff from the air conditioning vents above my head. I did not. I started to get quietly anxious and frustrated; this was out of the norm and I was in uncharted existence territory.

And then, I started to feel a little more emotional. My husband and I had been talking/joking for weeks about my upcoming change of life season, especially since at 51, I am technically late to the party. But, the discussion was always in a future, anticipatory sense. Now, it seemed the switch had suddenly flipped to the present, and it felt very disconcerting; the future was immediate. I burst into my first bout of random crying for “no reason.” Actually, it was sobbing and laughing at the same time; while I wasn’t feeling great, I was trying to have a bit of humor about the whole thing. In that moment, I was hyperaware of joining the ranks of the “hysterical” (look up the origins of the word).

Thankfully, my well-versed husband was ready for the moment and stepped in just enough to give me a tissue, gently rub my back, and throw a few well-placed gentle one-liners that made me laugh a little more through the tears. I kept saying “I don’t know why…I don’t know why…” but really, I did. I was just thrown by the first time because it really took me by surprise. The tears were real and they didn’t seem to be coming from a place where I thought something was wrong. I just wasn’t feeling “right.”

Until now, my summers (like my cycles) have followed a pretty regular pattern. The month of July is usually the time when I am usually fully embracing summertime bliss. This year however, as I have enjoyed lunches with friends, writing/editing/podcasting, and having more time to decide what I’d like to do, I have also been managing both my shoulder and back injuries, which has gotten in the way of my full immersion into my Geriatric Gymnastics habit. On top of that, I have started to experience an increasing onset of perimenopausal symptoms which has been filling my cup for discomfort tolerance. I’ll list a few, not in any particular order, and some are not for the faint of heart.

• Period cycles that no longer make sense to me. They are unpredicatable in onset, duration, frequency, and flow.
• Frequent unsteady/dizzy spells. Usually they start when I wake up, often right after a vivid dream, and last for several hours. Once in a while it lingers for longer. I can still function normally, and exercise and movement helps, but it it still really disconcerting.
• Absentmindedly dropping and knocking things over. I have to be very present and focused when I cook.
• Weight fluctuations, often contributed to by water retention, and a slow upwards creep on the scale that is hard to keep under full control. The hormonal fluctuations are playing a large part in that now, and is not likely going to change in my favor.
• Constipation; the kind that only milk of magnesia, the elixir from hell, can fix.

I have also been struggling with memory and recall for a while now. Having conversations is really hard because the words that I want to say just don’t come to me. People have to be patient as I pause to retrieve them, even the simplest ones like “address” or “rock.” I find myself trying to describe the stupid word, “the place where something is…” or “the thing you plug into Google maps.” It’s maddening and really upsetting when I think about it. Sometimes, it’s actually embarrassing. I know I’m an intelligent person, but when I am having a conversation, I sometimes feel like an awkward idiot. Telling a story verbally is a nightmare because I can’t do it in a smooth, linear fashion. My brain jumps all over the place, deciding what detail to leave out or highlight. Either it’s too wordy or there are big holes in the flow. 

That’s why I like to write. Either the words flow easily or I can sit and think quietly about what I want to say next. I can edit. I can look things up. No one has to wait for my brain to process things – it’s all right there when I press the publish button. It gives me a chance to process all of the moving pieces of this new puzzle I’m trying to solve. And when it’s 1000 pieces, and some of them are missing, you can see where it gets frustrating.

I still have just over a month left of summer vacation. My girls are getting ready to go off to college, and it will be the first time in a long time where it will just be my husband and I (and the animals) in the house. August will be filled with gathering stuff for each of their college situations, more lunches, exercising, sleeping late, planning for September, and various completing creative projects of my own. I will also be going to my yearly doctor appointments, where I intend to have multiple conversations in detail with the people who supposedly know better than me how to manage all of this “next season” stuff.

In the end, I will be okay, even if I get thrown for a loop once in a while. I guess it’s something else to adapt to, and it will keep me on my toes. It is both scary and exciting, going through the next phase of “growing up.” Be that as it may, I am surrounded by love and support, I am still creating my own path, and figuring out who I am amidst the second act chaos. Despite the discomfort, I will take each day as it comes, staying as present as I can in the process.