Gaaaaaaa! One more day slogging through the molasses of a sleep deprived Twilight Zone that is my “New Reality”.
This morning I was up at 3 a.m. and intermittently for the remainder of the night. What sleep I did manage to catch was disturbed by weird dreams interlaced with thoughts of a blessedly cold washcloth and the arctic draft of my bedside fan, the icy cast iron curls of the bed frame, and an unbearable heat preserved in my memory foam grave. Ay, there’s the rub…
I am, by all accounts, a human train wreck at present. Between the panic attacks and unexplained adrenaline rushes that hit me up side the head at wildly random moments throughout the day and night, I feel like bulldozing this wreck off the tracks altogether and tossing her onto the scrap heap, actually. Where all awful train wrecks go to die. Melt her down. Recycle. Circle of life…
But bones and joints and heart and lungs have this uncanny ability to thrive in spite of themselves, even if the brain is continually out to lunch. Weird, right? I breathe in, I breathe out. I am derailed, but my boiler is still steaming away and the wheels continue to turn.
Breakfast was half a pack of mini Rolo and a cup of Joe. At least I think it was – I might well have been dreaming. In any case, I don’t feel hungry now, and my mouth tastes of chocolate, so I think my memory is reliable on this count, if on no other.
On the upside, I am just mad enough at this point to realize I need to see the doctor about HRT, and so have booked an appointment for next Tuesday. Sage, Soya, Menopace, Evening Primrose, Cod Liver Oil, Multivitamins, Magnesium, sweet potatoes, yams… all this has given me possibly the most expensive wee in three counties, but has had little if any effect on my nightly drama. Who would have thought my estrogen levels were so high that I am crumbling in their absence?
Call me a quitter if you like – I don’t mind, really. But this “going the natural route” and “embracing the change” business is for the birds. Well, not for THIS bird, actually. I say bring on the drugs, man, and STAT. This Mother Hen was not born to be a martyr.
Happy Wednesday, all! (It is Wednesday, isn’t it?) I will be back on track soon!
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- feature photo: shutterstock
- 7 stages of menopause: pinterest.com
- hot and bothered: pinterest.com
- hormones calling: pinterest.com
- laugh till you leak: pinterest.com