Saturday morning I woke up with nothing pressing to do, made coffee, realized I would have several hours before the kids woke up, and took my coffee back to bed to watch the news. This is all normal except for the astounding fact that we had no pressing plans for the day, or even the weekend. That almost never happens and normally would make me so HAPPY. Normally. But not Saturday.
After I watched the so-called "news" for a few minutes I found myself sobbing uncontrollably. No, not from anything on the news. They were talking about that joke Wiener, for Heaven's sake. If anything, that should have made me laugh! Not just at his name, which is no fault of his own, but from his pathetic and slimy defense of him "self" (BAHAHAHHA, see? I am laughing NOW!) I turned the news off and continued to sob uncontrollably.
I searched my mind, racked it, to be honest, and could come up with no reason why I would be so sad. I has a long conversation with the person inside my head. It went something like this:
Person inside my head: "What the hell is WRONG with you?"
Me: "I don't knooowwww!"
Person inside my head: "Is it the mystery rash that half of the Grand Finale has that no Dr. can seem to figure out?"
Me: "That is bad. But no."
Person inside my head: "What about the fact that your ac unit is about 50 years old and seems to be running all the time, costing you untold hundreds of dollars?"
Me: "Sigh. That is bad too, but no, I am not this upset about that."
Person inside my head: "The leak in the car that you don't know about?"
Me: "No, my car guy can fix that, I'm sure."
Person inside my head: "How about the cavity you are going to have to get fixed? And have you made an appointment yet?"
Me: "NO and NO! Leave me alone!"
Person inside my head: " Let's get real here, honey. I think it 's menopause. Like, for sure."
Me:........................................................"I think that could be it"
Person inside my head: " You obviously need to cry. You will feel better after. Let 'er rip"
Me: "Yes. You are right. This will pass! I'll just let it run it's course. At least nobody is up to witness it."
This did nothing to stop the sobbing, even though by then I was feeling foolish inside despite it. But the tears just continued to roll out. It wouldn't stop, so I just grabbed a box of Kleenex and settled down to let this fit play itself out. I always feel better after a good cry and in the past have been reduced to finding Terms of Endearment just to get worked up into one. Those days are over for awhile, methinks.
I am laying in bed crying and waiting to stop, and it continued right up until the phone rang unexpectedly. The phone beside my bed is the old kind that is actually attached to the wall, and does not have caller ID. To answer the phone or not to answer the phone, that was the question. Without the caller ID I didn't know who it was and didn't want to alarm anyone I knew. On the other hand, if it was a telemarketer this might get me off their list for good. I answered it.
The youthful voice of the boy who mows my lawn asked without preamble "Hey, can I mow your yard this morning?" and I answered with a joyful "Yes!". Joyful, I tell you! The tears were gone and keeping the tears out of your voice is standard procedure when you are mother who doesn't want to upset the "kids", so I am pretty sure I sounded normal. At any rate, he didn't seem to notice.
As simply as that, the crying jag was over and I was on a mission to get the yard picked up, the dogs brought in, and the gates open so he could come and mow. And I was, if not happy, at least perfectly fine and normal and felt like myself, except for being disturbed at the thought that I may or may not be actually losing my mind. Thank God for menopause to fall back on. It's like the ultimate excuse and explanation for whatever is ailing me these days.
I have no earthly explanation for this, but in talking to some of my older friends, they all say that yes, this is perfectly normal and will not pass for a while. One woman even told me that she is pretty sure she ended a long marriage over that because she didn't realize that THAT was what it was. THAT being menopause. She just got to a point where she did. not. care. anymore. Then she shrugged and said "Oh, well" and laughed. I guess everything turned out all right after all.
"Oh well" was one of my mother's catch phrases. She used it in different tones for different occasions, but it always meant the same thing: "Nothing we can do about it now. Life will go on and we will just have to do the best we can."
I took it as a God wink.
Also, I think I had my first long awaited hot flash. It wasn't very long, and it certainly did not go all the way down to my feet, where it would be greatly appreciated (oh, well!) but I definitely got hot all through my chest and shoulders. It was both anti climatic and reassuring. Anti climatic because I was expecting it to be much worse, reassuring because I don't have to wonder if I may be losing my mind when I sob uncontrollably for no discernable reason.
That is the good news. The bad news is that there isn't really anything you can take that is safe. Also, word on the street is that the Dr., should you risk going to one, will recommend an anti-depressant. Or a different one, if you are one of the few remaining people who are not already on one.
I remain firmly convinced that this is their plan for world domination, anti-depressants, that is. Who "they" are remains unclear, but I figure the insurance companies are in on it. I must say it's a pretty good plan, as almost everyone is on one now, and much earlier than menopause!! Ever since early 90's they have been handing those things out like candy. I do not know that they care if you actually take them, but they certainly want you to come back for more. For all I know there is a black market out there where you can trade your anti-depressants for food.
Not to make light of taking one if they do, indeed, help you, but come on. The world ran just fine without them for millions of years and now suddenly everybody "needs" this? I don't buy it. I am stubborn like that.
I continue to hold out, although I did try one for a couple of weeks with no change except wanting to sleep all the time. The one I tried didn't even have too many bad side effects, but why is "depression" always a side effect for something that is supposed to make you ANTI-depressed? Is that not a logical question?
I think the answer is that as long as your insurance will cover it (and it WILL, babe) we are going to keep you on it unless, of course, you actually kill yourself. I suppose that COULD be the person inside my head talking, but they make a lot more sense than I do these days.
For my part, I will go on unmedicated (but perhaps extremely emotional), unreasonable (but steadfast), and with my eyes open (even in the dark where I cannot see a thing anymore).
Apologies in advance if I seem to be having a nervous breakdown in the grocery store. It will pass. Please do not be kind to me, as this just makes it worse and go on for longer. Just ignore me. From all accounts, women in my age group feel that they are not "seen". This is just fine by me. They say I will get tired of it, but I always was a sucker for being anonymous. It's one of the few thrills you can get in a small town.