March Menopausal Madness
Don’t know if I shared this all with you yet…but one of the extra special benefits of the whole gutting ordeal is being slammed fast and hard with menopause.
It sucks. I’m on fire, I’m freezing. My skin is dry, my face is oily. I hate everyone, I’m crying at baby pandas. I’m starving. I’m ravenous, and I can’t sleep enough. Ever. But here’s the good part. It will be over much quicker for me than most unfortunate women – since the evacuation of my womanly bits, I don’t have to endure the slow shut down of the build-a-baby workshop, it’s gone out of business and been replaced by a parking lot.
Anti-depressants have been helpful, especially since I doubled my dose instead of that pitiful small increase one of the posse doctors suggested. I think exercise and eating health would also help, but I still get exhausted so quickly if I move too much or too fast.
But that’s now what drew me to the blog-o-sphere today. I realized I haven’t been writing that often. Which is odd, because I love to write – more to amuse myself than for any other reason. While leads me to my first thought bubble…I follow a lot of artists on FB…self absorbed individuals much like myself, although the world really does revolve around me, while they just think it revolves around them. Occasionally they enter these contests and beg for followers to like them and help them win. But then when they don’t get enough likes or votes, they whine about not being good enough. One in particular stated that winning contests or getting published was their job…and that struck me as odd. I never thought of art or creativity like that. Art is supposed to be inspired, not manufactured. When I write or create, or tell myself stories in my head, I do it because it is a form of expression, a joy being born. Sure, I’d like to be famous and adored (I will be – eventually) but it comes from a pure place of inspiration. I do it to please me…if others are pleased, well that’s awesome but that’s a bonus. I make things, write things, imagine things because I want to make me happy. So what is more self centered – making stuff because it amuses me, or begging people to like my stuff so that I can feel successful. Quandary. Perhaps this is why I snatch babies instead of painting chapels or designing toys.
I’ve also been doing a lot of thinking about this cancer thing. It’s been over six months now since I was declared cancer free. That is the temporary label – cured will come at the 5 year mark. The problem is that even though I go to the dr and hear that things are good and well and clear…the thought that this disease will come back is never far from your mind. Not that I dwell on it…but I’ll get a twinge of pain or a weird feeling or then thoughts race through my mind. And then I hear about other people who have a limit on the time they have left and I am both grateful it’s not me, and then guilty that it’s not me. It’s like this strange club, where only those who have faced the reality that reality may be over soon can understand what this feels like. And then I mentally beat the crap out of myself that I don’t put my time to better use.
This dilemma then expands into a quagmire of existential thought. Why am I here? What is my ultimate purpose? Am I wasting time or doing precisely what I need to be doing? Is there a greater meaning to my day to day existence? What exactly is the lesson I needed to learn in this life? If we all die anyway, what is the point to creating, accumulating, doing? This is compounded because I am no longer afraid of dying. (disclaimer – I have no desire to die – I just ponder these questions) further compounded when you think about the fact that nothing that is here in this room, in this body, in this mind will exist in 500 years. So, following the premise of existentialism, that is that the individual is the key to the meaning of life and not some outside philosophy, and that to truly live requires passion and sincerity, when you don’t believe in the same measures of success as the masses, how do you know if you are creating meaning or living with out purpose? And if I really apply my buddhist principles of being in the moment, why am I even worrying about this or what others think or what will happen tomorrow? Then I think, if I had a dumpster I could just throw all these stupid “things” that hold me bound to this place in there and be the nomad I believe I am supposed to be. Or a vampire. Some would call me mad – I call myself this often. Damn you stupid philosophy hobby! This then forces me to return to playing hours of Dragon Gem so I can shut the voices off in my head.
Some days, I think I am too intelligent for my own good. I suck up information and ideas like a sponge. I think back to the chemo days when my brain was jello-like…I still forget things and the like, but lately much of that stored knowledge rushing around aimlessly in my head. I am afraid of chemo brain again. That was probably the hardest part at time for me…because all I really have is my education.
Well that didn’t turn out to be all light and fluffy and amusing as I intended. I am in the middle of a delightful hot flash at the moment. It’s like sticking your face in a campfire but without the toasted marshmallow or perfume of burning wood. For those of you who have experience “the change” – you know it’s much like the fun of turning into a werwolf but without the benefits of superstrength, sharp teeth, and speed and agility. Mrmmrgrrrw mgrrwwweereeerrgrrr – werewolf for I wish I was a non-menopausal woman again. For those of you yet to know this delightful interlude of womanhood – your day will come.
Well my friends, I will try not to be so long or morose in the future. And to write more. Til then, spring is 14 days away. The skunks are emerging from their burrows and dying in the streets, so it is clear spring is right around the corner. Be well.
Almost forgot…only 5 days til the new OWTH album drops…CANNOT WAIT!