Archives for category: Hormone Hell

I’ve started this one twice three four times now. I had a difficult night, and I haven’t been successful, yet, at putting it behind me. I must have awakened weeping a million times, once I fell into a restless troubled sleep, and the night lasted just about forever until I woke, about 5 minutes before the alarm would have gone off. Tears streamed down my face when I rose, and as I selected my clothes for the day, and while I stood in the shower. I don’t know that there is much to say ‘about’ it. I’m feeling the weight of years, and changes, and the slow, inconvenient process of aging in the context of relationships with much younger people.

Winter. It's a metaphor.

Winter. It’s a metaphor.

Over the past few days there have been highs and lows, the everyday, the sublime – in short, a very human experience. Why is this one, today, so hard? Why do I feel like ‘giving up’, right now? What is it, exactly, that I would give up on? I guess I should admit that it’s a pretty everyday, mundane sort of complicated human experience that is probably pretty commonplace – however alone I feel right now – and bitching about it (or crying) doesn’t actually help. It’s “The Sex Thing”, you see. Yeah – pretty personal stuff. Hard to write about, for me, with comfort and clarity…too many of my eggs are in this basket, metaphorically speaking; it’s caused me difficulties for a long long time. I love sex, and generally want more of it than any relationship provides. My sense of self is pretty entwined with my sexuality, too, which complicates some things, at this point in my life. My body – and mind – are going through some changes with this whole menopause thing, and sensations and emotions feel different, my body responds differently to touch, my chemistry has changed/is changing. I’d love to say ‘only the parts of my experience that are affected by my reproductive hormones are being affected by these changes’ – but typing the words immediately becomes comedy in my head. I’m a female human primate – what part of my experience isn’t affected by my reproductive hormones in some way? I don’t suppose I’m making things any easier to be in therapy for issues that developed around sexual trauma, domestic violence, and identity, while I am wrapping things up as a reproductively viable adult, either. The challenges and frustrations just keep piling up, until… I spend an eternal night weeping in my sleep, and wake feeling…

I feel like my heart is breaking.

There's often something beyond the obvious.

There’s often something beyond the obvious.

So. I woke early, and without difficulty, which is a nice enough start to the return to work for the new year. 2015. My traveling partner was sweet to me this morning, making me a tasty latte while I was in the shower. Detail by detail, I pick up the threads of my work routine. I’ve no enthusiasm for it, this morning. It seems likely to be a day I spend in the ladies’ room between meetings, splashing cold water on my face, and hoping to drag myself through it all with some measure of grace, and acceptance. On top of tears, I hurt. I’m not surprised – crying in ones sleep must be quite stressful, which would likely result in tense muscles, weird sleeping postures, and this wicked headache I woke with. I still manage to take care of me; medications taken on time, drinking plenty of water, choosing a morning yoga sequence with calming postures, and meditating. The water will matter in the most obvious ways, and it is the thing I would be most likely to overlook, so remembering to drink more water is a win, on a difficult Monday morning.

The first work day of the new year, and I’m feeling irritable and self-involved. I’m also committed to sorting it out and finding my way to a better place. Even in the midst of tears on a moody Monday morning, I recognize life’s joy and pleasure is within reach – if only I can raise my hand to reach for it. There’s will involved. Choices. Verbs. A commitment to change and to action is needed, and it’s not always easy.

I don’t do ‘resolutions’ to celebrate the new year…but I have goals, intentions, commitments – like anyone might. It’s a season of change, and hopefully of growth, too. In 2015, I am pointing will, choices, and action in the direction of being simply the most genuine person I have within me, while also learning to be the most kind, compassionate, reasonable, considerate, loving, and good-natured genuine person I have the ability to be…and since change is, and I am embracing it, it’s my hope that as the year progresses I can be more of those things over time. Which one of those qualities is most important to me? Being genuine. The rest will come with time – because the people in my life really matter to me, and I would treat them well. I will listen more, talk less, and make an active effort to make my default setting to take an agreeable tone in negotiations, and to live well, and pleasantly. From my perspective within myself, I don’t do ‘mean’, and I don’t do ‘bitchy’… but I know that isn’t necessarily the experience everyone has with me. I am hoping to reach a point as a being when I am a woman of whom others might say, themselves, in a firm way with conviction, “Oh, she doesn’t do mean, and she doesn’t do bitchy.”  That’s not intended to communicate that the opinions of others matter to me more than my own evaluation of self, not even a little bit, but how we treat others isn’t actually defined by our intent, or what we meant to do/say – it is 100% and entirely about how what we do/say is received by others. That was hard to come to terms with, initially, but it has been an important understanding to have.  (If you find yourself constantly suggesting, or commenting, that people should ‘grow a thicker skin’, or somehow be less sensitive, you may want to check yourself – could be you aren’t the person you’d like most to be.) I put a lot of thought and words around this one, because I value being treated well, and I want to treat others well, too – because it feels good to be treated well, and kindness, compassion, and taking a minute to let the other guy get a word in are basically free. They have great ROI.

I’m no longer weeping; my tears dried some moments ago. I feel calm. Resolute. Capable. Also wary. Cautious. Concerned. Uncertain. I also feel emotionally ‘cracked open’ and raw – being kind to myself today will be important; I can’t count on the world to be kind to me in my stead, and there’s much to do, and limited time for coaching others how to care for me – I’ve got to be prepared and able to do that for myself.

Walking a winter path.

Walking a winter path.

Today is a good day to get back to work – on me. Today is a good day to be kind to myself, and to the world. Today is a good day to make choices to be the best person I can, and to grow from the moments when I’m not so awesome, and improve on my personal best, each day. Today is a good day to notice that change is.

No fooling – warm indeed; my hormones have been all over the place this week, and at the moment I am uncomfortably warm, window open on a winter day, trying to cool down. Hot flashes are odd; I’m definitely feeling ‘hot’, as in ‘the temperature is too high’, and I am sweating uncomfortably, and feeling weighed down by my clothing. The room is a comfortable 70 degrees…and my body temperature is normal. Hormones. I feel what I’m feeling, and it’s real enough…but…it also isn’t something that directly affects anyone else, unless I start racing around panicked and tearing my clothes off, trying to find relief in the open refrigerator door, or throwing all the windows in the house open, or some similar foolishness. Now and then it can be pretty comical. In the moment, it mostly sucks. It’s not so bad, today; enough to notice, but not so much that it is really disruptive.

The hormone thing that is such a huge part of a woman’s life is complicated. Compassion for that complicated experience is valuable. Real recognition that not having experienced it from within means there are likely elements of the experience won’t be obvious, or easily understood is nice, too. I’m fortunate that my traveling partner is generally very kind, accommodating, and understanding about ‘the hormone thing’; he’s also very perceptive, and sensitive to the shift in comfort and mood, which results (less fortunately) in feelings of discomfort for him more often than either of us would prefer. The easy answer on both sides is love, and giving each other some space. I like the love; the need to take some time apart in order to care for each other most efficiently (on the principle of ‘this too shall pass’) is something I enjoy less, but value having a partnership that makes it easy. Hormones are what they are, and the machinery is winding down, an understandably complicated process. I am fortunate to be well-loved along the way.

Life isn't on rails, we have choices, and our path is our own to choose.

Life isn’t on rails, we have choices, and our path is our own to choose.

Raised voices on the other side of the door interrupt the flow of my thoughts. Today I woke earlier than the rest of the household, for the first time in many days. I’ve enjoyed the luxury of late nights, sleeping in (well, as much as I am able), and living without the ticking clock of the work routine in the background. This morning, I was up, and having my first coffee well before anyone else stirred. I didn’t bolt into the kitchen to throw my arms around my traveling partner; neither of us is at our best first thing upon waking, and the loving thing is to give the man some room to have some coffee and wake up. At the moment that I considered heading into the great room for good mornings, hugs, kisses, and happy greetings, I heard raised voices, and the vocal tones of stress, irritation, and frustration. I decided to let that moment pass.  The house is quiet now, and I feel calm and content with the choice to take care of me.

My coffee is almost finished. I’ll have my second coffee in town, with a friend. I’m looking forward to the outing most especially because we no longer see each other as much, now that we don’t work together. Then it’ll be home, and laundry, and getting ready for the work week. The holiday is over, and it’s been mostly quite nice. I’ve enjoyed the time with family, with love, and with myself. It’s been a very good time for growth, and contemplation, and I feel more prepared for the new year than I might have without this interlude.

The stereo comes alive with a favorite Santana track…the day begins in earnest. Today is a good day for love. Today is a good day to be kind and considerate. Today is a good day to change the world.

 

It’s been a lovely holiday so far, and I’ve got a few more days of holiday vacation ahead of me…and this odd day of work out in the middle of it. 5:00 am feels much quieter even than usual, this morning. I’m faced with the choice to write, or continue to meditate, enjoying the stillness without an obvious shared outcome. Many mornings it is a choice I make, but most mornings it doesn’t feel quite so willful and obvious. I suspect it is because I don’t have a clear topic in mind just at the moment.

I woke mostly pain-free this morning, but drenched in sweat and my morning medication has made me nauseous. Hormones. I know the hormone thing has the potential to make things suck, at some point, but that point is not yet now. 🙂 Even this small challenge doesn’t seem sufficiently noteworthy to really write about, at least not this morning, or not at the moment. Funny that learning to enjoy my experience has been such a complicated process in some ways…I’m glad I’ve come so far that a simple quiet morning is enjoyable, but not remarkable beyond the observation that this lovely quiet moment simply is.

I spend some moments enjoying catching up with far away friends, and preparing for the work day. The New Year is nearly here…

...Soon the ornaments are packed away for another year.

…Soon the ornaments are packed away for another year.

Possession is an interesting idea, with some nuance in its meaning. I mention it because I can often use the state of disarray among my possessions as a barometer of my emotional well-being. Bottom-line, the less tidy and organized my personal space is, the more likely I am feeling anxious, overwhelmed, unhappy, disordered, or just losing my grip on my affairs somewhat; it’s utterly reliable. I keep very orderly surroundings for myself when I feel balanced, content, and well. When my room is a mess, untidy, or ‘stuff’ is piling up (however neatly), I am likely also feeling ‘possessed’ – overcome and controlled by my experience, my possessions, my ‘to do list’, my calendar, and losing my sense of perspective and order. The choices I make with regard to my surroundings tend to reflect the conditions of my inner experience.

Morning coffee...contemplating order and disorder.

Morning coffee…contemplating order and disorder.

My room is a mess. I noticed days ago that ‘things are getting out of hand’. Clean laundry hasn’t been put away; it was neatly folded in the basket at the start of the week, but days of rummaging through it for something to wear has resulted in chaos. Paperwork is stacking in less-than-neat piles of this and that, once organized based on urgency, type of action needed, or some other shared characteristic; it’s not especially orderly now. My bookshelf tends to be very neat, and limited to things I’m likely to really want to ‘live with’ and have at hand; it’s now packed with the miscellany of everyday life, with no particular semblance of order, or aesthetic sense of perspective. My bed is usually carefully made up, sometime shortly after I’m up, dressed, and getting on with the day; lately, the bed-clothes remain in disarray long after I’m dressed, and often remaining so until nightfall returns for another bit of sleep.  I’m aware of these things, and dissatisfied with the lack of order, which compounds the anxiety and sense of being out of control. The solution is easy, and readily at hand any time – I can clean this shit up. It’s not a difficult thing, and if I were to tackle the project this weekend, it would not take very long; it’s not that bad, yet. The things that are the source of the disorder externally, are the also the source of the malaise, ennui, and lack of attention to details that are generally important to me, and I am stalled until I take care of me.

Another moment, some other coffee...

Another moment, some other coffee…

That’s the thing, isn’t it? Taking care of me is important…only…I’m not sure where to begin, since I’m not sure what’s up – or don’t want to face it. It could just be hormones. That always feels like something to face, something ‘wrong’, something that needs to be fixed – and it really isn’t. It’s just hormones and waiting it out until they change course is generally the simplest action, most reliably effective. Self-compassion becomes more effective than troubleshooting things in a more active way. If something more significant were amiss, I could expect it would reveal itself more honestly, I think. So, I wait it out, take care of me on other fronts, and hope that doing so will see enough energy restored, and will, and heart, and focus to want to tidy things up. I could use a good night’s sleep, too. It’s been weeks since even one weekend day found me sleeping in. I do well with 7 hours of sleep…I enjoy 8 very much, although I rarely sleep that long…lately I’m averaging just 5 hours a night, and often interrupted. I don’t feel sleep deprived quite yet, generally, but I yearn for a long night of deep recuperative sleep, and count on weekend days to be able to sleep as long as I care to, and wake when I wake. The world doesn’t help out much; I am too noise sensitive to easily sleep through common sounds of morning, and I’m often awakened by car doors, cupboards, footsteps, conversation in the hallway…all manner of small things that are too every day to avoid. It sucks. I sometimes find myself feeling angry, and wishing the world would do what I do, when people are sleeping nearby: nothing, and that done very quietly indeed. My behavior when other members of the household are sleeping is actually disordered, itself, and I don’t much talk about it – I definitely don’t insist other people do as I do. It’s a remnant of living with domestic violence; when someone else is sleeping, I find something very quiet and still to do, and do only that until they wake. I stopped wondering why no one else seems ‘willing’ to do that for me when I realized I wasn’t doing it to be considerate – I was doing it out of fear of waking someone scary. Baggage. Chaos and damage. Ancient pain.

Each time for the first time, each moment, the only moment...

Each time for the first time, each moment, the only moment…

I’m feeling cross and emotional today. Hormones. I’m also finding myself wasting bandwidth feeling resentful of having to deal with it at this point in my life experience – ‘menopause’ gave me hope that this bullshit would be finite, and have an end point. I’ve little tolerance for the frustrations of others today, and I don’t feel very social. Experience and intellect tell me these are very human experiences pretty common to the ebb and flow of hormones. The feeling of disconnection, too, and the anger about feeling that – all part of the hormone thing. I yearn for connection – and trying to get that feeling back mostly results in small moments of discord, emotional volatility, and exposure of communication challenges I am presently fairly helpless to resolve. It’s easier to keep to myself…maybe if I sit here long enough looking mad my face will stick this way? Is that where ‘resting bitch face’ comes from? Maybe if I sit here long enough I’ll want to make my bed, put away my clean laundry, and tidy up? That would be a nice change… right now I mostly want to hit things with a stick, or shout angry words, or throw stuff. I don’t permit myself behaviors of that sort – and yes, sometimes it requires will, alone. I’m very human.

I found myself wondering this morning if tales of demonic possession of old are nothing more than someone trying to make sense of some woman’s hormones…

A different coffee, on a different day, in another place; memories of love are sometimes captured in pictures of coffee.

A different coffee, on a different day, in another place; memories of love are sometimes captured in pictures of coffee.

Today is a good day to behave well, and treat others with great kindness. Today is a good day to keep my worst bits in check to improve my own experience, and to care for others. Today is a good day to linger on the pleasant moments, and accept that some of the bad bits aren’t ‘because of’ anything significant beyond my subjective experience. Today is a good day to recognize the subtle boundary between my own experience, and the world.

I didn’t sleep well. I’m struggling to write; my typing is a travesty of spelling errors, and incorrect suffixes. My thinking feels fractured and chaotic, disorganized. My grammar probably isn’t. I regret the challenges it may cause you, reading this.

The wind last night knocked power out all over the place, and even the light rail was affected. I took a taxi home and enjoyed the longer than desirable ride with a relaxed, funny driver named Ben. All the signal lights were out for a large area of town, and the traffic was surreal; for some reason, the lack of signal lights was causing people to ignore the lines on the road, and the lanes as we neared each intersection multiplied well beyond whatever city plan existed unseen in the darkness. I was glad to get home after spending only 2 hours making the journey that typically takes just one. I take a moment to really appreciate the good decision-making that stopped me lingering for an hour or more at the train station, just waiting.

I also take a moment to contemplate what feels like a major dick move yesterday, and I’m not sure how I feel about the choice I made. When I went to get into the taxi, I recognized a friend from work, standing back where he could smoke a cigarette, also waiting for a train. He seemed eager and relieved to see me, and did his very best to inquire gently and with great civility if I would share my cab – and let me know where he was going, also heading west, sort of toward my home. I stalled and my words were not fluid, and I think I ended up sounding like a jerk saying no, instead of finding a kind way to indicate I wasn’t planning to take a route through that area of town – because the signal lights were out, traffic was going to be ugly, and the freeway would get me home much sooner. Maybe that’s still a dick move? At the time, I wanted to say “Hop in!”, and find a way to make it a good fit…if I had, it would have been a boon to my friend, and my journey home, myself would have been much much longer…and in good company… This is one I’ll be thinking over for a long time to come.

Hot flashes, night sweats, poor quality sleep…Hormone Hell, menopause or not. This too shall pass.

One more work day to get through. I’m not really thinking about the weekend. I am thinking about sleep. LOL

My holiday wish list includes good sleep this year...

My holiday wish list includes good sleep this year…

Today is a good day to be content that when I am doing my best, it is the best I can do. Today is a good day to choose to nurture the best in myself, and in others. Today is a good day to honor good decision-making. Today is a good day to change the world.