90's Nostalgia & Perimenopause

On a Friday night in 1996, I was at Blockbuster renting Jerry Maguire, eating a Creme Savor, and coming home to call friends on my see-through phone, which shared a line with our dial-up internet. I was thirteen, one of the two tallest girls in school, towering over all my friends and any boy I had a crush on. There were lovely moments, like Rosie O’Donnell after school, Schwans frozen pizzas, and listening to The Spice Girls, but middle school kinda sucked.

Honestly, who liked middle school? 

Entering my forty-second year, I’m feeling so many similarities as I begin my experience with perimenopause, or as it feels like, another round of puberty. I didn’t do well the first time, so here’s hoping I can do better this time. 

I can romanticize my early teenage years and hope to do the same for my forties. At thirteen, I loved that I still played basketball, got decent grades, and had fun painting my nails. I was playing with my style, taking new fun classes like home cooking, and having crushes on all the boys. But in reality, I cried… a lot. I remember crying in class one day, and Mrs. Larabell asked what was wrong, and I didn’t have an answer. I genuinely didn’t know why I was so upset. Those big feelings came up so much that I started skipping school. I’d get dropped off and just walk in a different direction. I had terrible friends, ones who ran from me when they saw me saying it was a joke. They made fun of my clothes, how I walked, and how I always pronounced the letter T in words. Buttons. I liked hearing a T in a word, and I still do today. I was on the verge of breaking up with these terrible friends, but it was a transition phase, and I don’t often do well with those.

I’m doing my best not to feel as messy with menopause, although every post menopausal woman I’ve known to go through it has shared that it's pretty much a disaster. Currently, my focus is to feel more present during this… more present during the mess. Staying in the moment wasn’t something I was good at as a teenager,  to help with that now, I’m headed to therapy. I was in therapy then, too. I remember my mother acting quite fast when I shared that I was having suicidal thoughts. Thanks, Mom. More recently, my doctor told me she was going to do her best to keep me out of behavioral health, and I understand what she means by that. Like, I’m not thinking about taking my life, but there are these crazy low moments where I’m not sure why anyone would choose to be around me. I feel like I don’t belong in my home or marriage and wonder what I am doing with my life. And then, I start my period, and I feel good again, but the cycles of this are something I’d like some certified help with. 

The parallels of puberty and perimenopause are there, but I’ve got more experience with life now, and I’m looking forward to more. I know they’re not the same, thank goodness. Being thirteen was hard enough; thankfully, I have much more love for myself at forty-one. But I think we can all agree they both have the potential to suck. 

So, for now, I’m working on getting the best sleep possible, eating better, and moving my body. I’m moving forward with hormone replacement treatment, hopeful for some relief. And while there are still many tears, mood swings, and rage outbursts, there are more nine-hour sleeps, yummy blueberries with breakfast, and long dog walks in the afternoon.

On Friday nights, I still watch a movie or a show. Currently, it’s Downton Abbey. I don’t eat as much candy; it’s most likely homemade popcorn, but if there is any candy, it will be gummy nerds. My phone is still with me, but I rarely use it for talking and more for solving word puzzles. I’m still the tallest in my home, and Rosie O’Donnell is now Chelsea Handler podcasts and my favorite Rishi tea. In addition to my mom, I have new incredible women in my life, and Brad is always there to reassure me that he’s happy he married me. I miss nostalgic things, like my Gameboy, Saturday morning cartoons, and Tamagotchis, but I have adult money now and can simply buy them if I want to. 

I think the “not knowing” of menopause is the scary part for me. I once rubbed a red Christmas soap on my underwear, pretending I got my period. I sometimes wonder if I’m doing the same with menopause. But then, I remember that I haven’t felt depressed much in my life, and right now, I can count on the saddies once a month like clockwork. Something is happening; let’s just hope that I have the patience (bahahahah… not something I’m good at) and guidance to navigate. Cheers to being a woman!