The good news is that I disappointed hardly anyone because few people read this blog since I apparently got kicked out of a social media group for perimenopausal women. In fairness to them, they do state in their group rules that people should refrain from joining the group just to post links to their blogs. In fairness to me, I didn't do that. I participated in discussions frequently and didn't even have a blog when I joined the group. Nevertheless, I don't own the group, so I accepted the boot with surprising grace for a perimenopausal woman. (Insert scene of Glenn Close's Alex Forrest: I WON'T BE IGNORED, DAN!) The truth is that while I really enjoyed those ladies, my feed is no longer dominated by posts about symptoms and questions about anti-depressants. I'm not mad at that.
I've been thinking about my own symptoms, which have lessened. I don't know which of my lifestyle choices gets credit--acupuncture, a soy/herbal supplement, dietary changes, exercise, meditation, validating my intuition? All of it, probably. I saw my acupuncturist today (and I still have a little crush). I picked up new prescription glasses. I ate strawberries. I took a nap. I bought my expensive curly hair products. (Because I am a goddess, goddammit.) And I got free samples from a makeup store. I picked up the first season of HBO's "Insecure" from the library and put a book on hold: I Can't Date Jesus by Michael Arceneaux. I wish my day off had been a little longer, but I will fall asleep tonight mostly content.
For a long time, I was very much not content. Multiple things in my life were failing me--people, my own skills, and in the very worst moments, my ability to trust myself. I'm still pulling myself from the shards of what is left and finding fresh, new yarrow leaves poking up from the cracks in the broken sidewalks. So, I'm pretty sure I'm going to be all right. It may sound strange, but perimenopause is helpful in this regard. Because while it's true that I can gain a fucking dress size in a day if I eat a piece of cake, it's also true that I am more aware than ever of a guiding inner knowing that tells me things like: Bitch, you don't need hormone replacement therapy. Go for a walk and listen to a Sylvester song. Eat more berries. Don't straighten your hair. You do you. And fuck 'em if they can't take a joke.
I'm choosing to believe the women who have spoken about how much freer they felt as menopausal women. I'll share some of their insights here if you are interested. Some of it is going to be kind of woo-woo, and it's going to be up to you to listen to your own inner guidance to determine what resonates for you. And more power to you if hormone replacement therapy actually is what you need. The point is that you own your perimenopause. Paint it white and yellow and call it a daisy if you want to. And when you disappoint yourself, take a breath and try this: Oh well. Back to it.
Sylvester is very definitely not singing about perimenopause in this video. I'm posting it anyway because she's a goddess as much as I am and because I never need a reason to indulge in disco. Now prance, I say! (Quote borrowed from RuPaul.)
