I can’t be the only woman approaching that age where their body starts to morph (from baby-maker to emptied nest) who is terrified of menopause.
And I don’t mean that in an “it’s just not comfortable to talk about private things” way (I clearly don’t have that problem). I don’t mean it in a “menopause is a taboo subject” kind of way. I mean it in a “I finally have a meds combo that works really well for me and even the hormones I’m swimming in now screw it up sometimes, so I don’t even want to know that menopause exists” way.
It took a while to get this riddle solved, so now I have a few years to enjoy it and then…I get to start all over again just because my biological clock is all “it’s 5 o’clock pumpkin, let’s wrap this up”. First of all – as I mentioned before, I’m not so into the whole babymaking thing anyway. I opted out. WHY IS THERE NO OPT-OUT FOR MENOPAUSE? Yes, I could trick my body with creepy synthetic hormones and maybe when the times comes, I will, but that’s not natural – it’s more tinkering.
If you want details on why this vision of the future would terrify me, just Google “menopause and ADHD”. Fun times. Here’s a sampling…
I love ones that tell you about “What You Can Do” – as if becoming not-female were really an option.
Or “Is it ADHD or menopause” articles about how ADHD and menopause are both so great that they can both inhibit your ability to think and are at time indistinguishable from one another. Multiply times two and voila – cognitive shenanigans as your dopamine levels take a little trip to the southernmost reaches of sanity.
At some point I’m going to have to flip the positivity switch but I find that when I try to push away my doubts, they don’t really go away, and at some point they’ll just pin and hog-tie me until I pay attention. So I’m allowing myself this moment of hyperbole, and later on I’ll ease into a graceful acceptance of the fact that in about a decade I’ll have to adjust to a new brain, after I already adjusted to a whole new brain in my mid-30’s.
I’m screaming silently because people are sleeping upstairs, but oh, I’m screaming. And eating a Dove bar sandwiched between Doritos. Because that’s what my current batch of hormones is telling me to do.