Tag Archives: Perimenopause

Low Dayz

I hate days like today. The low days. Days where depression seems far stronger than I am, and drags me down like an anchor, strapped to my ankles.

I feel helpless, hopeless, pathetic, sad, angry, scared, frustrated, and overall, simply emotional. Exhausted. Overwhelmed.

I feel the pressure of all the things I need to do, weighing down my shoulders, pushing me into a slump, increasing the negativity of my current self. I know I’ll regret not working on the things I need to get done, but when I try to push those overloaded shoulders up and get to work, I find I lack the energy.

I didn’t a few hours ago. Why now? What’s changed?

My depression got a boost from my new hormone pills, and together, they’ve knocked me on my back.

I stare up at the ceiling, wondering how it came to this. I was happy; laughing; the smile on my face came so easily. I was jazzed, ready to take on the world, had a plan.

That stupid little pill, the one fixing my screwed up body, had to be taken at noon. I steeled my mind to stay positive, to keep up the same attitude and energy even after the pill’s contents had entered my blood stream.

I failed. Again. The pill is too difficult to fight when I haven’t slept well. I can’t be tired and strong – it’s too much to fight on my own.

So I fall. Just keeping my mind from sinking into darkness is a chore, and now I have to settle for a new goal for the day: breathing.

I’ll turn to God. Pray for a while, set my mind on things that will make me at least want to smile. I’ll push through, and later welcome sleep. I’ll wake in the morning, once again jazzed and ready to get everything done. I’ll take my pills at noon, and be back where I am now.

Oh, how I pray for the day my body is straightened out, where I don’t feel like this any more. Then I can be over these pills. Done with the roller coasters. Past the madness.

Until that day, I’ll simply breath.

 

I Need to Feel the Burn!!

I miss working out. Dear God, how I miss it!

crying dramatic zooey dash.

First off, let me say: I know it’s no one else’s fault that I haven’t worked out much the past few years. It’s entirely my doing, so don’t think this is one of those “oh poor me” posts. It’s not.

This is a “oh dear God, I can’t take it any more!!” post.

It’s me, saying I can’t stay like this any more. I can’t pretend I am ok with my body. I’ve learned the lesson needed from it – I’m comfortable in my skin, just the way it is.

That’s just it though – I’m comfortable. Not happy.

I’m not happy.

giphy (29)

I’m the only one who’s stopped myself from working out, and I’m the only one who can start again. I know this, full and well. That’s part of what this is for me, right now. Getting it out, writing it down, seeing it physically out there. Me, saying enough is enough. Dear God, woman, pull your shit together!!!

2d88d-nervous2bfrustrated2bkesha

See, in High School, I was known as a “workout nazi” among my friends and peers. I did cross country, weight training, soccer, basket ball, and helped train the wrestling team and football team. I was a trainer, I was a fitness expert, and I was a health nut guru. I still am, at heart. I have the knowledge, I have the experience, I just don’t have the ability.

Or at least, I haven’t.

I suffer from several chronic medical conditions. Part of what drove me to become such a workout nut, was the fact I was in pain, nearly 24/7. I wasn’t in a situation where I could deal with it medically, so I simply had to push through it. I’m a bit of a pit bull/bulldog of a woman, and I don’t just sit and pout when I’m in pain. I kick ass.

strong back

Having to finally deal with my medical issues though, meant I had to stop. I had to sit still, before I killed myself from neglecting the things that were killing me. Had I not stopped and dealt with the pain instead of pushing through it, I’d be worm food right now.

I’m glad I took a break. I’m glad I listened to my amazing hubby, and got myself figured out. I’m glad that my life isn’t at risk the same way any more.

s. gomez teary eyed thank you

Having a hysterectomy in my early 20s though, was traumatic. It took nearly two years for me to recover physically from my medical stuff. It was bad enough to where just going grocery shopping took all my strength, and nearly put me in tears from the pain. If you know me, you know I don’t cry easily – bulldog, remember?

giphy (22)

Mentally and emotionally, it took me another several years to pull myself out of the hole I fell into. Having to stop working out wrecked me inside, and along with some family drama shit that never should have happened, I feel into a depression for several years. I’m just now coming out of it, with the help of God and my true family, but it’s not easy. And it’s impossible to do, if I’m not able to be physically active the way I used to be.

giphy (55)

Luckily, I’ve finally gotten to the point physically to where I can do the day-to-day stuff I have to, without hurting anything, or putting my fist through a wall from pain. I’ve started lightly working out, which already makes me feel like a wuss, and it does hurt.

But you know what, I can’t take it any more. I can’t sit around and wait for my body to heal. I am a slow healer either way, mainly due to some of those medical issues, and realistically, it will always hurt.

I don’t care. I’m ready to kick ass again. I need to. I have to. Otherwise, I’m going to lose my mind. I feel like my life has been put on hold, waiting for myself to heal.

monsters 2 impatient in line

I’m healed enough – I’m ready to feel the burn again. I miss it so badly, it puts me in tears. I’d rather cry from pain while actually doing something, than cry from the desire and wish that I could be doing something.

I have plenty of reasons to not. Doctors would tell me to wait. I’m a stubborn pit bull though, and I don’t care.

I want my body back. I want my six-pack abs back. I want my toned, hard body back, and the confidence that went with it. I miss myself, and my body can learn to deal with it.

confident rebellion anna kendrick

It won’t kill me, it will most likely just put me on my back a few times, before I toughen back up a bit. I’ve gotten soft, and I hate it.

If you’re still reading this, well, thank you. I appreciate the fact you care enough to read it. To be honest though, this isn’t for you – it’s for me. For me to realize I am there. I’m ready to get up and kick some ass again – mainly my own.

deal with it audrey hepburn

 

This time next year, I will not look like this. I will not feel like this. I will be back to myself again.

I’m ready – let’s feel the burn.

 

Gunky Days

Hey guys, how are you?  Hopefully good.

Me, I’m doing…so so.  My hormone therapy is difficult at the moment.  I have good spells, and I have bad spells.  Good days, and bad ones.

Then there are the days like today, where it’s stuck somewhere in the gunk between good and bad.  I wish it could be good, and fear it slipping into bad.  Blech.

Writing this though, I realize I haven’t even explained why I am going through hormone therapy hell.  It’s probably something I need to talk about, since it’s now causing butterflies in my stomach, thinking about it.  I’m afraid of it, and since my goal in life is to face any fear I find, I think I’m going to start a set of posts about why I keep talking about hormones.

Putting myself out there is hard, but I’m seeing more and more women doing it recently, especially with what I’m dealing with.  Their courage is giving me more courage.  At the same time, I wish I had a while ago, so I could give other women courage as well.

Better late than never =)

For today though, it’s a foggy, yucky, aching day, that isn’t quite bad, but not quite good either.  Maybe some chocolate will make it a little better.  Or a goofy cat video 😉

 

Hormone Therapy Sucks

Perimenopause and Menopause in your 20s sucks.

Body changes that happen during menopause/perimenopause suck.

Only truly relating to mostly women over half my age sucks.

Searching for remedies recommended for those women sucks.

Surpassing my mother in body issues sucks.

Feeling old in my body sucks.

Not being able to change it sucks.

My skin and hair issues suck.

My body flucuations sucks.

Hot flashes suck.

The weight roller-coaster sucks.

The hormone roller-coaster sucks.

Hormone pills every day sucks.

No one understanding, expecting, or knowing what to say sucks.

Knowing I’ll be living with this for the rest of my life sucks.

Being scared of what I will feel like when I’m 50 sucks.

Hating my body sucks.

The pain sucks.

Everything else I’m dealing with besides the premature perimenopause/menopause (the issues that caused it) sucks.

But mainly, it’s not having a choice about it, that really sucks.

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