My Little Meno Pause

Barbara: Today I don’t have an in-depth issue I need to get off my chest, I don’t have an idea or a rant or a plea or a story for you. I just have my own little real-life experience and I want to share it with you. Mostly in the hopes that you will share your stories with me, or that in sharing our stories we’ll help our younger generation see that it ain’t so weird or scary or verboten to talk about this.

If you’re wondering why I use the adjective “little” in the same vicinity as “meno” (because how can a “meno”-anything be “little”??? Menopause means another life-changer, another milestone, another major turning point, right?). Well, I’ll tell you why. Right now at this moment, it feels little. It feels subtle and gentle and mostly like an unassuming thing behind me, politely tapping my shoulder to let me know it might be barreling by in a moment.

Okay, so here’s the scoop. I am 48 and I just missed my first period. Or rather it was 10 days late. Now I am totally accustomed to a short, robust cycle: every 25 days, announced with potent PMS (a foggy, vulnerable fatigue in my case), in and out with reliable predictability. To wait 10 days for it was a bit disconcerting. The 2 periods before that—while right on schedule—were milder forms of my usual. I feel … okay. By that I mean, I feel fine, but not as light and easygoing as I am used to. But that could be any number of things. That said, I am actually going through a really nice time right now, with my beloved daughters both home, with some very exciting work prospects developing steam, and with my sense of worth feeling pretty stable. For all intents and purposes, I should be feeling GREAT. But … but … to be honest, there’s this strange pervasive … melancholy? No … restlessness. Or … uncertainty. I don’t know if there’s a connection here, but I thought in fairness I should throw that truth into the pot and mix it around. I’m not scheduled for my regular doctor’s checkup for a couple of weeks. So what do I do in the meantime? I turn to you guys, of course!!

I have 2 massive “women and their bodies” type books sitting on my bedside table. But who has time right now to read a 600 page TOME? I just want a short and sweet discussion of what your own experiences have been like when you approached this stage of your lives (or when someone you love did). Is this a slow change? Or will it happen so fast I won’t know what hit me? Please, any words of wisdom, wile or comedy would be greatly appreciated!

Deb: Oh where to begin? You know my mind raced when I got this email. What do I tell her? How do I support her? And then I thought, you know it is soooooooooooooo individual, so different for each woman. But I will say this—my menopause was not good and not easy, but it was very fast—two intense years. Yes, I was sure I was losing my mind. Still. Yes, I was sure I was losing my mind.  And so I owned it and I worked it. But now, even wayyyyyy before now, it was a distant memory. I am available, my darling friend, for private coaching. Not only available, but sitting and awaiting your call. So let’s do it. In the meantime: “it’s not your fault, it’s not your fault, it’s not your fault, it’s not your....”

I Am So HOT In Bed

Barbara: It’s true. I am smokin’ hot in bed. Four-alarm. Off the charts. A real sizzler. Too bad my husband sleeps through the whole thing.

Now, I know you know I mean literally hot. Sweaty. Icky. (Although, I will say, I think I’m kinda the other kind of hot too, but that’s for another post … if you’re interested. Or if I’m in the mood.)

Anyway. I’m not yet in menopause or in the “peri” part of it … I don’t think. What do I know? I mean, I don’t have hot flashes or day sweats or any of the other stuff Deb has warned me about (bless her heart and curse her honesty). But lately I wake up night after night just uncomfortably hot. Of course, it probably doesn’t help that I’m under a down duvet that I am loathe to throw off. My inner little kid still likes the coziness and “safety” of a substantial cover over me. And to make matters worse, my dog likes to press himself against my legs, generating even more heat and effectively shutting off the only means of escape I have if I want to throw a leg out into the cool night air. And I don’t think my husband would appreciate me yanking off the covers on his side. I guess I can consider myself lucky that he isn’t a through-the-night-cuddler. Not like a friend of mine who when she went through menopause sweated so profusely every night she drenched the sheets, but who was determined not to disengage from her cuddly and strangely oblivious husband who had a habit of clinging onto her like she was his personal life raft. Even with my mild(er) case of midnight hotness, I can’t imagine it.

So I wake up night after night and blink hotly at the ceiling in abject wonder at my body. Must it always do all the things I have been warned it will do? Must it be so bloody (no innuendo intended) predictable? It really begs the question, would I prefer to be in ignorant bliss—ie, do I want to know nothing of aging and its changes and therefore not second-guess my sudden warmth and simply assume it is the weather, the bed, or my husband? Or do I prefer to be “in the know” and realize that, yeah, I’m hot, but there’s good reason for it and it’s normal and natural and in no way needs to interfere with any other more desirable kind of hotness?

Deb: As Barb’s official MenoYoda, I can say that indeed I have been there. Moons ago now. But I actually purchased pj’s made for menopausal women that absorbed the sweat. They didn’t work as I was too hot to wear them! 

I know the old expression goes: “Horses sweat, men perspire, and ladies feel the heat.” But during menopause, I was a Clydesdale with the big old furry feet, and even they were soaked with sweat. So the only consolation I can offer my dear friend is this: When you wake up during the night and your sheets are soaked, just be grateful it ain’t pee.

Barbara: Hallelujah, MenoYoda. Once again, you have shed the light!