I shouldn't feel embarrassed, but it's hard not to.

It happened again.

It's the third night in a row, always the same.

I wake up at 1am wrapped in a blanket that is completely soaking wet, heavy across my chest, clinging to my skin in the cool night air. My head rests on a pillow that is lumpy and sour, absorbing everything like a sponge. I feel trapped. Claustrophobic. I stand, and sweat puddles at my feet, running from my collarbone straight down my stomach, trickling from the backs of my knees along my calves to my ankles, my hair dripping onto my shoulders and rivulets coursing down my back.

It is disorienting, to wake in this state. You know those dreams you had as a kid (or when you were in college, or last week......whatever, who the hell am I to judge) where you dream you are in the bathroom peeing and you wake up and find you wet the bed in your sleep? I feel like I am in the shower. I stand for a moment, swaying slightly, trying to get my bearings in the dark with Sam and the baby snoring softly and the breeze rustling the blinds.

All I want to do is go back to bed. I am so tired. But my bed is........not usable. At least, my side of the bed isn't. I stand there a moment longer, embarrassed, frustrated, disgusted, drained. I lick my lips, which feel as dry and parched as my throat. Water is beaded on my upper lip just below my nose.

Salt.

Fumbling my way across the hallway to the linen closet, I pull out a bathmat and a beach towel. Back in the bedroom, I peel back the blanket from my side of the bed. I spread the bathmat out over my mattress. I dry myself off the best I can with the beach towel, then try to wrap it around myself enough to keep me from shivering. It's a cool night, and there is a breeze. Goosebumps are prickling my arms. My damp hair is clinging to my neck. I lay down quietly, trying not to disturb Sam. He woke up last night and tried to help, but I was so self-conscious.....I just hope he sleeps through this time around. I catch myself holding my breath, listening to make sure his breathing is still slow and steady. Eventually, I stop shivering and fall asleep.

The  baby wakes at 3. I sit up, disoriented again. Still. At least I'm not dripping. I reach for my bathrobe, which is clean and dry thank god. I wrap the flannel around my waist and hurry over to the bassinet. Sam stirs and rolls over. Close - but not all the way over - to my side of the bed. I wince, hoping he doesn't go any further towards the center of our mattress. Praying he won't wrap his arms around me and bury his face in the back of my neck when I come back to bed.

I change the baby in the dark, warm a bottle, rock him back to sleep. I creep back to our room, holding my breath again. I slide onto the bathmat gingerly, and pull the bath towel around my shoulders, hoping for another hour or two of sleep.


Just after dawn, I drag myself out of bed feeling dehydrated and sort of dizzy, pulling the bathmat off my mattress and unwinding the beach towel from my shoulders as I go, throwing them in the hamper and then stripping the bed of the sheets and blankets as I wait for the shower to get hot. I am going to have to wash my pillow again. The comforter too. Maybe the mattress pad should just be thrown out.

I study myself in the mirror, my eyes puffy and my face shiny, one cheek is creased from the towel, the texture from the bathmat impressed upon my hip and shoulder.



You know, when you hear about hot flashes and night sweats, you probably think you know what it entails. I  know I thought I did. I read the books. I knew what I was getting into. A little overheated. Flushed. Easy to deal with - sleep with light blanket instead of a heavy quilt. Wear layers that you can take on and off. Open a window. Use a fan.

It's not like that.

Taking to my bed

I have, more then once in the past week thankyouverymuch, taken to my bed. First, it was because I was exhausted from a long and tense night at work. That was followed by a draining series of emails and conversations with my son's teachers and various friends and family. Then, of course, there was the great tsunami of 2010 which came hot on the heels of a late night at work. And now, it's 59 degrees outside, and 61 degrees INSIDE my home on a blustery, rainy day here in Hawaii. Yes Hawaii. Yes 59 degrees.

Yes.

So I am taking to my bed yet again - not just to keep my feet from burning with cold, but to try to catch a quick nap, something I always feel like I need when I am cold and tired.

As an added bonus, today I had an appointment with the nurse practitioner at my Gynocologist's office. My Obstetrician/Gynocologist. What that means is I just had to spend an hour surrounded by women in various stages of pregnancy, and recovery from their pregnancy, and their cute little babies.

Awful.

Terrible Stuff.

You know how pediatrician's offices schedule well-child visits first thing in the morning, before all the sick kids start showing up? They should do that with the OB/GYN office too. If you are there for strictly gynecological reasons - especially due to some sort of traumatic or untimely event - you should have a special time set aside, where you can go to these visits without the attendant emotional angst that leaves you wanting to wrap yourself up in exam table paper, and rock back and forth in the stirrups - which was how the Nurse Practitioner found me today.

I guess I'm STILL not quite over the hysterectomy, folks.

Sorry about that. I'm getting there. I mean, I CANCELLED my appointment altogether last year, so this is progress ! And the visit itself went fine, only one person asked me when my last period was (gosh, the answer "2005" just never fails to get a shocked look !), I got poked and prodded and felt up like a teenager in the backseat of a Subaru (not that I would know anything about THAT.) Everything checked out just fine, and after a brief conversation about extra calcium and bone scans, I was on my way. Back through the dreaded waiting room (avoid all eye contact. AVOID IT.) Down the stairs, out the door, hightail it to the safety of Henny the MiniCooper - a car I would never be able to own if I was even possibly fertile, because there is just no way to get an infant seat in there and still fit behind the steering wheel.

I drove off unemcumbered by diaper bags or bottles or screeching sobs from the backseat. I listened to NPR. I ran a few quick errands, and I headed home. To bed. To count my blessings, warm my tootsies, and take a nap I wouldn't have been able to take if I had a new baby in the house.

And I am almost able to accept my menopausal, post-hysterectomy, crone-y self. Almost.

Some things to file away for later.....or now.

After a week where I have been dealing with a lot of miserable menopausal symptoms, I thought I would take a few moments to outline what, exactly can happen when you go through menopause.

Guys, even though YOU will not go through menopause, chances are pretty good that you are going to have to interact, at some point, with a woman who IS going through menopause. A wife, a mother, a girlfriend, the teller at the bank, you know, a woman. You see them from time to time, no?

And on the outside, they seem like any other woman. Yes, yes they do. You won't be able to tell.

For instance.....I was 29 years old when I went through menopause.

Twenty Nine.

It took a while for them to figure out what was going on. By the time they finally ran the right test, and realized what they were dealing with, I was nothing short of a science experiment. And as such, I spent a very long time feeling pretty fucking miserable. In fact, every so often, even to this day (and especially today, my GOD today has been bad) the symptoms can just take over. This is serious shit. The real deal. THIS is the sort of stuff that tests you, that tests your relationships, that forces you to admit that your life is not in your hands. No, you're not dying. But damned if it doesn't feel like it sometimes.

So without further ado, here's a smidgen of the fun things you too can look forward to experiencing - either yourself, or vicariously through others. You lucky duck.

Night Sweats.

I am not talking about sleeping under too many blankets, and getting a little warm, and having to peel off a layer. I am not talking about just feeling a little damp.

I am talking about waking up in a puddle. Sweating so profusely that your fingers are pruny. Having all of your bedclothes - including the top of your comforter - completely soaked. I'm talking about flipping over your pillow, and finding that the other side is actually worse. I am talking about having to get out of bed - sometimes more then once a night, to take a shower, strip off all of the bedding, and sleep on a towel wrapped in your bathrobe because you have run out of blankets. That is, if you can sleep. Because we have another fun symptom:

Insomnia.

Insomnia is a beast. I sleep for 3-4 hours at a stretch, and then I am awake for potentially the rest of the night. And the entire next day I will be a zombie, but I am afraid to nap in case I won't be able to sleep at night. Since I already sleep so little at night, the idea of sleeping even LESS is frightening. The thing about it is, during the night, while you are awake, you don't feel tired. You only feel tired when you are awake DURING THE DAY, say at about 11am. And again at about 1pm. And 4:30pm is really hard too.

Hot Flashes.

These can come at night, and that is bad. But they also come with no warning, perhaps during a lovely meal or in the middle of your commute, or perhaps at the busiest time of your day - a time when you do not have a moment to spare.

But you have to take a minute.

Because all of a sudden, your entire head and upper body are suffocating. You can't breathe. You can't THINK. You can't stand it. You would strip naked right that second if you could, but usually you can't. So you just have to sit down, and wait. Wait for your head to stop spinning. Wait for the sweating to subside. Wait for the ringing in your ears to die down, and your pulse to slow and the panic to ease. You are not going to spontaneously burst into flame at any moment. I swear. Try not to cry or hit anyone. It won't help.

Migraines.

These are awful. These are not headaches. These are episodes where the pain is so bad that you might vomit. And cry. And walk out of work in the middle of something and go home (if you can even make it - sometimes you have to call for a ride) and crawl into bed and curl into a ball and just wait for it to be over. You won't care if you are going to get fired, you'll deal with it later. You don't care who you offend or inconvenience or blow off or disappoint because OH MY FUCKING GOD THE PAIN. The only way these can be worse is if you have a simultaneous hot flash.

Zits.

What. The. Fuck. I used to have good skin. Yes, yes I did. I have no idea what happened.

I didn't change my cleanser. Or my moisturizer. I just woke up one day with a huge zit between my eyebrows, and since then it has been a real adventure. I think I have it under control now. Minimum washing, lots of moisturizer because THE WRINKLES come with THE ZITS and it is very very very depressing.

Weight.

Well, it fit YESTERDAY. But it doesn't fit anymore. It might fit again next week. In the meantime, you will need to buy new clothes. Buy something stretchy and forgiving. These maxi dresses that are in style these days? Perfect. Embrace the muu muu.

Hair.

Congratulations, you are a fucking Hair Farmer. You can grow hair anywhere, at a moment's notice. Chances are, the hair will grow in all sorts of places that you wish it wouldn't. In other words, it probably won't grow on your head. But you might be rocking a sweet guido 'stache and not even know it. The unibrow you thought was eradicated? Is back.

Mood Swings.

PMS is small potatoes compared to menopause. It might be because you feel so miserable to begin with. It might be because you are not sleeping. It might be because everyone is a stupid asshole. You are going to be moody. And you have to figure out a way to be moody, without being a total bitch. It's going to be very hard. I have found that the best technique is to just own it.
"I am feeling VERY UPSET right now, and if you do not go away, immediately, you will feel my burning wrath. I would suggest going far away and finding something else to do. Something quiet, so as not to draw attention to yourself. I don't want to yell at you, but I will."

Forgetfulness.

I'm not kidding when I say that I have forgotten what I was going to write about this. I have begun putting reminders on my phone, with alarms, because otherwise I will not remember anything. Here's an example of how bad it can be: My husband returned a movie one day. I forgot he had taken care of it. I tore the house apart looking for the movie. He reminded me he had returned it. Two hours later, I searched the entire house again, because I wanted to put the movie with my purse - SO I WOULDN'T FORGET TO RETURN IT (oh, the irony). After a while I remembered that it was already returned. But then, a few hours after that, I was pulling out of the driveway to run an errand, and remembered that I needed to return the movie. I pulled back in the driveway, walked back to the house, unlocked the door, and went looking for the movie to return while I was in town.

I wish I was lying. It happened.

I can walk into a store for one item, say hello to the greeter at the front door, grab a basket, and then HAVE NO IDEA WHY I AM THERE. If I make an appointment, it has to be put into my phone immediately - or I will miss it. I took the dogs with me in the car one day, and got out of the car and walked in the house and left them in the back - and thank GOD my son was all "Uh, mom? The dogs?" because honestly they would have been in there until someone had found them and let them out. It can be very scary. Many times I feel like I am losing my mind. Seriously losing my mind. Most of the situations are pretty harmless, but leaving the dogs in the car was a near-tragedy. And I can say without a doubt that the forgetfulness will be one of the single most disruptive parts of menopause for you and your co-workers and friends and family. It is really hard to deal with, and it is hard to explain when it just happens over and over again.


So that, in a nutshell, is just a short list of some of the fun things you can expect with menopause.
Keep in mind, that when you are interacting with a woman who may seem irrational or ornery, she could be experiencing any of the above - or possibly ALL of the above. Doesn't make it any more pleasant to deal with her, but you know, maybe she has a good reason for being such an unreasonable douche. And as a side note, depression is a serious possibility, so if you are having a hard time dealing with all of this call your doctor. Nothing wrong with a little Vitamin X to make your life easier at a time when every damn thing seems so hard.

Trouble in paradise

This weekend has been full of work and friends and family and fun, and a massive struggle to keep myself together. But really, it's not a crisis or anything like that, and I feel like a shit for even bringing it up. I mean, I know there are a lot of people out there who actually have REAL PROBLEMS. And mine seems like nothing. A shadow of what real problems should be. So does that make them less valid ? I think it does......and yet.......but still.

Even with my trusty Prozac, over the past few months daily life has become increasingly difficult for me. I go for days without leaving the house. I avoid answering the phone. I sit at home, online, drinking tea, and thinking. And worrying. If you have recently sent a text or left a voicemail, there is a pretty good chance I haven't checked it. I get my email, but rarely respond - I don't know what to say. I don't have anything really important to say right now. I guess. I don't feel much like talking. I don't know how to respond.

The night sweats are back with a vengeance - one of the first sure, physical signs I have that the medicine is losing it's efficacy.

And more frequently now, I am having panic attacks - with the pounding heart and blurred vision and tight chest and breathlessness that, when I first experienced them, I thought were signs I was having a heart attack. Now, all of these years later, I know I'm not dying, but it's still scary. Especially since I have experienced them so INfrequently the past year or so - theirs is not a welcome return.

But the worst is I am not sleeping - maybe because my bed is soaking wet and I am chilled to the bone from the damn night sweats. Maybe because I lie in bed thinking about Sami and the kids and money and work and the dog and the truck and the house and things that happened that day and people I know and conversations I had......

With that said, it should come as no surprise to hear that I am constantly exhausted. You know, I read that sentence and I think: I feel as though every time I speak to someone, or write something, I mention how exhausted I am. I am starting to think that isn't even an accurate description. I am not exhausted. I am not just tired, or weary, or sleepy, or fatigued, or worn out.

This is more then that. This is having to pull over on the side of the road at 3pm because I am afraid I am going to fall asleep at the wheel. This is struggling to stay awake in the morning to get Max to school, then coming home and climbing back into bed with Lucy and a movie on the laptop, and sleeping for another few hours. This is having to drink an espresso to go out to dinner. It's not every day, but it is frequent, and frustrating. I have a lot to do, a lot to get done, a lot of things I want to accomplish - not just in my day, but in my LIFE. And this struggle is keeping me from doing too many things.

I hate to be on a prescription. I hate to take a pill every day. I have tried Paxil, and also tried a higher dose of the Prozac, but both left me feeling like a zombie. Since I am already barely awake as it IS, that option is not very appealing. I always hoped I would take the Prozac for 6 months or a year, and then stop, and be magically better. But as I have gotten older, and progressed through menopause, then had the hysterectomy, then dealt with the emotions and hormones relating to all of that...well.......it has been a hard couple of years, and instead of getting easier, it just seems to be getting harder.

This shouldn't be so hard.

This doesn't feel like me.

That is the weird thing about depression - it's not as though I am sitting around feeling SAD all the time. I'm not ill, I am still dressed and functioning. I'm still ME, everything still WORKS, but I feel like the Grinch Who Stole Christmas, with a heart 3 sizes too small. I'm living life wrapped in a comforter, muffled and confused and a little off balance. I can't feel things the same way. Reaching out is almost impossible. I cannot touch, or be touched. I can barely lift my arms sometimes. But inside, I am fully aware that I am wrapped up like a mummy, and I WANT to get out, shed the weight, the constrictions of all of these layers......I just don't have the energy. Maybe tomorrow, I think. Maybe later.

I have been here before. Depression is cyclical for me - damn long cycles, but cycles nonetheless. Crippling sadness, followed by outrageous, manic behavior, followed by a period of calm - where I can give advice ad nauseum, and take my own advice to heart. And then, something happens, a switch is flipped, and suddenly everything that was do-able is now undone. Sometimes, a stage lasts for months - but it always evolves. Or at least, it has before. I am sure it will again, sooner rather then later since it has been a while now......

So, this post is really just to say "Hey. I am still struggling. I am here, but it feels very far away. Hang in there with me."

I am fine, and yet I am not fine - all at the same time. Not a scary "not fine" - they're not going to admit me to the Molokini ward or anything for God's sake - this is just a muddled version of the real me, right now. I have all sorts of thoughts and feelings in here - and I am trying to find a way to let them out, share them with you, show them to everyone and say "HERE. THIS is what I think. THIS is how I feel."

It should be VERY interesting, hm ?