The Katywompus Journal Observing Life's Little Quirks by Diane Moody |
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Entry #7: Forget About Weapons of Mass Destruction - let’s Talk Hormones.
One of my dearest friends is in hell right now. I was there once myself. One day I started sobbing while fixing my young daughter's hair for school pictures. I couldn't get her pony tail just right and I came unglued. The next day I couldn't get out of bed, yet I couldn't sleep. I refused to let anyone open the curtains. I had horrible headaches. I couldn't remember where I put my keys. And I couldn't stop crying. That was over ten years ago. Long story short, I was diagnosed with pre-menopausal symptoms, known today as "perimenopause.' It's the body gearing up for those glorious years known affectionately as "the change" or menopause. The hot flashes would come later. Doctors kept telling me I was too young for menopause. To which I replied, "tell that to my husband and kids. They're living with a psychopath." One doctor had the nerve to tell me "you need to see a psychiatrist." I slashed the tires on his Lexus on the way to my car. SPECIAL NOTE TO MALE READERS: On the outside chance you're still reading this, stay with me. It might just save your marriage. You see, I have a theory about the divorce rate for couples in their early-40s to late-50s. I believe many marriages that break up during these years end because of one thing: hormones. Gentlemen, with a little education and a great deal of patience, understanding, and what the Bible calls "longsuffering," you can survive these turbulent years with that stranger in your house who resembles the girl you once married. Do the words "for better or for worse" ring any bells here? My aforementioned friend had a hormonally-inspired emotional breakdown last week. At work one morning, her computer hard drive crashed for the fifth time that week. Something in her snapped. Hours later, the tears still pouring down her face, she felt the weight of the entire world on her shoulders. She was hopelessly suffocating in a black cloud that made no sense whatsoever. That's the way it is with female hormones. They're strangely similar to bad house guests. They drop in unannounced, usually at the worst possible time, stay as long as they like, ruin all your plans, and sometimes cause irreparable damage to your home life. Sadly, once they finally go away, they're likely to return with a vengeance. The medical experts tell us perimenopause begins 8-10 years before menopause and basically means lower production levels of estrogen. They say menopause is considered "natural" if it hits between 45 and 55 years of age and describe it as a "normal part of aging." I'd prefer they leave the word "normal" out of the discussion entirely. Of course, The Change is different for everyone. My mother had no idea she was going through it. One day, she realized her "monthlies" had disappeared. Just like that. Dad wondered a couple of times why he found her girdle in the freezer, but otherwise she sailed right through it unscathed. Oh, if it were only that easy . . . Truthfully, I was lucky, though that may seem an odd choice of words. Not long after the Dark Angel of Hormones sprinkled the evil fairy dust on my shoulder, my doctor discovered a pre-cancerous condition which required a complete hysterectomy. I still swear there was a heavenly choir singing the Hallelujah Chorus when she gave me the good news. That surgery was the best thing that ever happened to me. In fact, I think every woman should have the option of THE BIG "H" after giving birth to her last child. Sure would make this world a better place. Just ask my husband. I'm married to a saint, though I didn't know it until we went through this "adventure." Not many men are willing to withstand the hurricane force of the menopausal winds, but mine did. He never gave up on me. There were times I'm sure he was climbing the walls in frustration with my erratic mood swings, but he only tried to help. He was there with me every step of the way. I keep telling him he should write a book: No-Man's Land: A Husband's Guide to Surviving Menopause. It would blow Dr. Phil off the best-seller chart. In a heartbeat. So I shall pray for my friend, be there for her, let her cry on my shoulder or store her undergarments in my freezer. I will NOT tell her "it's all in your head" or "just get a grip and deal with it!" But I shall promise her brighter days ahead. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go hide all the knives in her house. (She'll thank me one day.) Click HERE to send Diane an email. She welcomes your comments and suggestions. She's Flying the Coop Back to School Blessed are the poor... It All Started With Eve It's Almost Here! |
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