Archives for category: Anxiety

I’ll just give you the TMI warning now, okay? If you are squeamish about the biology of women, I understand; please stop now and read something else. 😉  If you choose to stick around, welcome – we’ll resume after this lovely metaphor about women and medicine…

Mushrooms

Mushrooms

It says something about the state of medicine, where women are concerned at least, that the medical industry has yet to develop a simple, reliable, accurate test to determine whether or not a woman is ‘menopausal’, heading toward menopause, or dealing with some other variety of hormonal weirdness.  Seriously. Women have existed alongside men as medicine developed and progressed, and as far as I know the experience of our reproductive life-cycle hasn’t really evolved much… so what’s the hold up? Currently, the most reliable criteria for determining whether a woman has ‘gone through menopause’ is – and this is not the punch line of a cruel joke, it’s quite literally what we’re told – “once you’ve gone a year without having a period, you have gone through menopause”.  Um…what? Yep. That’s it. “Wait and see” is the best we’re offered.  0_o

I am counting down the days. Again. So far, 101 of them – and that beats my last count down, earlier this year, when I got to 92 days, then faced the ‘joy’ of disastrously and unpredictably heavy (and irregular) periods and the associated random opportunities to spot clean, or do extra laundry at a moment’s notice for a handful of months.  Now I am counting again.

I’m also wearing pajamas. Well, ‘sleepwear’ of some sort…  I’ve always preferred to sleep nude, as an adult. I find it more comfortable.  I like the feeling of sleeping nude… but I dislike the experience of waking abruptly in the night to find that linens need to be changed, the mattress needs spot cleaning, and a shower has become an urgent necessity; so, sleepwear has become practical beyond the sensuous preference for nudity. lol.  I find myself considering how nice it will feel to return to sleeping nude once I’m past the ‘pause… but I’m also sort of growing to enjoy the fun of sleepwear… is it an age thing? Is it vanity? Is it a good excuse to think of lingerie as ‘practical’? My taste is a bit toward soft and pretty, although in the dark…? lol.  I definitely don’t prefer long pajama pants for sleeping, though – I love the feel of smooth legs on clean sheets. 😀

I miss the clockwork regularity of my cycle in younger years… I do not miss the threat of fertility, though.  I’ve had a good cry or two over ‘I’ll never…’, that’s a pretty human experience, isn’t it?  Motherhood hasn’t been an aspiration for me, though. I’m not that woman; I have walked a very different path all along.  A brief period in my life – between about 27 and 32 – I had an undefeatable urge to reproduce.  It was an experience that felt very biological, and rather beyond my control or understanding.  At 50 I remain satisfied with a childless life, with choices other than parenting.   I’ve only ever met one man who moved me so, heart and soul, that I grieved openly in his arms that I would not ever bear his child – and although neither of us wanted children at that point in our lives, he understood me so well.  He held me while I cried, and said the soft tender things that lovers know to say, and the moment passed.  No doubt that will be one nagging regret I will have… one moment of poignant longing… one missed experience that will hold a tiny bright flame of wistfulness and sorrow that I feel now and again; to have been a mother, to have born his child, to have loved and shared and built someone new together to carry who we are in their heart and in their memory, would have been remarkable indeed.

Motherhood is not my path; I chose differently very early on, and I do not regret that, even a little bit.

That’s one promise menopause holds for me that means a lot; no more stress about unplanned pregnancy.  Sex without anxiety about reproduction is a very big deal in a very good way.  😀  Like it or not, most of the available options for birth control are actually pretty awful; powerful drugs with nasty side effects (including ruining a woman’s sex drive!), condoms (and the associated loss of sensation, inconvenience, and loss of powerful biological effect on mood from contact with flesh and bodily fluids), an assortment of grim options that involve inserting bits of metal, plastic, or other foreign objects (many of which can be felt by a partner, and not in a good way), or the last worst option – going without sex.  Medicine really hasn’t done women any favors with the crappy options we have for birth control – and society doesn’t do us any favors by playing head games with us about the ‘moral’ consequences before, during, or after.  It has gotten very tedious over 50 years being bombarded with constant reminders that sex isn’t okay (when it is) that my decision-making isn’t my own (when it is), or that I have some obligation to bear life in my body (when I don’t).   Yep – I’m more than ready to reach a point in my life when my ability to reproduce is behind me, and ‘babies!’ is not longer any element of a discussion about me, or my sexual decision-making. lol.

Menopause. There’s astonishingly little real research – or support – for this element of female experience.  It still surprises me. I mean – this affects all my partners, too, not just me. My emotional reactivity, my unpredictable hormones, my everyday health and well-being don’t exist in a vacuum! I keep expecting more from the medical industry… but in a culture where it’s okay to call a scientist who won’t work for free a whore, because she is a woman, why would I be surprised?

Anyway… the count down continues, and only 264 days to go to get my final test results back determining whether I’ve reached the ‘pause.  Most accurate test available!

Today is very chill and lovely so far. Calm. Quiet.

In fact, there’s a lot of that, lately, in my individual experience. It’s a nice change from a lifetime of internal turmoil. Much of it is the result of applying intellect and will to studies that actually have the potential to get that result in the first place;  turning my attention away from analysis and introspection, and turning it toward mindfulness, observation, and meditation.  A lot of it is the result of new skills, new understanding of self, of others, of key concepts – like ‘taking care of me’, consent, and compassion. Some of it is simply allowing wounds to heal at all, rather than continuously picking at the scars and constantly inflicting new trauma on myself by way of OPD (Other People’s Drama) and the media-focus on shock and alarm.

I am learning to set real boundaries that make sense for me, and to manage them and communicate them clearly.  I am learning which of my challenges are a byproduct of my brain injury, and which are a result of emotional trauma; child abuse, sexual assault, domestic violence have all had their moment, and it can be a lot to sort out.  I am learning skills and tools that address my emotional and physical needs, and encourage and support real long term healing.

That all sounds amazing – feels amazing, too, when I take a moment to feel the progress, value it, and appreciate it. Mindful gratitude, and self-compassion get major points on the scorecard when I look at how much has changed over the past few months. So… time to ‘level up’!

Sometimes a high score is about more than a number.

Sometimes a high score is about more than a number.

Gamification is no joke, and it has certainly played an important role for me by applying it to both rehabilitation (to whatever extent that can be accomplished on a TBI that is decades old), and to clearing some odd emotional hurdles resulting from ancient pain, personal demons, and poor programming.  Healing and growing and becoming… it is a puzzles with many pieces.

Here it is Friday. The household begins to wake. Soon the quiet will be replaced with love, and conversation, and the activities of the day.  Today, I will select my tools with care, and share my heart fearlessly with my loves.  Today I will change my world.

Today was… weird. I don’t remember now what sort of mood I was in, first thing. I think it was good.

My mood was fragile when I connected with my partner and we stopped for lunch together. I am making a lot of progress, and pursuing therapy this time is actually getting me somewhere – but I’m investing my will in this, it isn’t easy. I’m often more than usually emotional after my appointment, and feel raw and over-exposed. I appreciate it when I can get a couple really quiet hours to myself afterward, to get my bearings, and take a few deep breaths.  Sort things out, and develop a deeper understanding.

Today did not go that way.

The evening is winding down, now. In general, the day had a lot of value to it, and a lot to enjoy. I’m hoping that tomorrow morning those are the things most prominent in my memory, while the moments of discontent, and distress dissipate into the fog of what is forgotten.

I didn’t spend much time viewing the world through a lens. Today I used my eyes. Still – a couple pictures, and I’ve been looking at them and wanting them to say something more than they do. I do like a good metaphor. I’m not so sharp this evening. So…perhaps you see something I don’t see.

A single flower in autumn.

A single flower in autumn.

A shrub in bloom.

A shrub in bloom.

...Yeah...I don't know...I should have read the title.

…Yeah…I don’t know…I should have read the title.

 

 

Another strangely restless night, although I woke feeling refreshed and calm when it was done. Three days of disturbed sleep, now – or is it four? Why am I counting? Had I slept deeply and well for so long that this really seems… unusual? Wow. That’s an interesting way to reflect on real progress, growth, and change. lol.

This morning I don’t have much to say. I’ve a nice cup of coffee, not the best beans – so not the best brew. I’m satisfied with it, nonetheless. It doesn’t take that much this morning; I am content.

Rather than type a thousand words, I’ll share some pictures this morning and hope they carry something of value into your day. 😀

The last of the autumn roses, at dawn.

The last of the autumn roses, at dawn.

Down the road, across the field, along the way; here, too, autumn.

Down the road, across the field, along the way; here, too, autumn.

Autumn in suburban treetops.

Autumn in suburban treetops.

Autumn is my favorite season. It isn’t just the colors as the leaves change, it is something about the quality of light, the scents in the air, the feel of morning fog, and afternoon sunshine, a difference in the way the rain falls – or is it something else? I only know it is my favorite, and here I am with another autumn day ahead of me, filled with potential.

Today I will enjoy the joy I feel without reservations or fear that someone will come along and ‘take it all away’.

 

 

 

Yesterday was lovely. The work day went smoothly, in that how-could-this-be-better sort of smoothness work days sometimes have. The walk home became a ride home when my partner reached out with the offer of a ride, just as I was realizing my notion to walk the 5k route again wasn’t planned with my fatigue and general physical condition of the day in mind.  The evening continued in the same pleasant way, and I actually did get to bed earlier, on-time-ish enough not to mess with my routine was my hope.

A sparkling autumn afternoon.

A sparkling autumn afternoon.

My night didn’t go so smoothly. I woke abruptly at 2:30 am, gripped by anxiety and dread, barely able to take a breath. My chest felt tight, and as I sit here considering it, I face an internal deluge of words to describe fear and anxiety, and little else; content capable of taking me over and leading me away from contentment. I got up, put on dim lights, and began going through the motions of regaining calm: breathing, yoga, meditation, a shower, more breathing, more yoga, a few mindful moments settling into the ‘now’… just after 3:00 am was when I took my first fully deep and actually satisfying breath. I remember it because at the time I thought “Huh, I wasn’t actually breathing deeply at all, this whole time!” Then, I took 4 or 5 really good deep calming breaths and felt my consciousness shift from real fear and panic, to the residual low-level anxiety that sometimes lingers once I’ve gotten past the bad bit.  I was able to return to sleep.  For the second day in row, I woke to my alarm clock, feeling groggy.

It’s a peaceful solitary morning, in spite of the difficulties of the night.  The fear I woke with has faded into words about the experience, which are much less scary than the feelings themselves. I may never know what the anxiety in the night was actually ‘about’… but, with a brain injury, PTSD, a lifelong history of sleep disturbances (seriously, since I was a toddler) adding to the natural emotional ups and downs of going through menopause – do I actually need root-cause analysis? Isn’t life enough? lol

Day two of seriously poor quality sleep starting my day. I do feel it.  Taking care of me, and meeting my own needs where I can, includes getting adequate rest – this isn’t it.  Maybe tonight will be better.  I find myself silently reviewing ‘the sleep list’ of things I can do to improve my sleep…  it is, however, morning. Time to face the day.