It must be weird to go to the blog of a single gal in her early thirties and read about hormones outside of the context of just plain HAVING THEM and wanting to date various men as a result.
Believe me, I think it’s weird, too.
And what’s also weird?
Is being back on the whole replacement trip. Because WOOOOO! If you want to feel both ill and bananacakes all at once?
I got your ship right here, sailor.
But I don’t want to write about it all the time with wry observations about “changes” and “womanhood” and “heart journeys” because I’m really not that girl. Or more importantly, I’m still a girl! I am not ready for all of this!
People keep directing me to various pages and forums where I could discuss the things I’m going through, but when I click on the links, I’m surrounded by people my mom’s age (NOT THAT THERE’S ANYTHING WRONG WITH THAT) who have kids and major past or present relationships and condos and pets and pantsuits and 48th birthdays and other things I haven’t had yet.
If I post my story, I just get a lot of people freaking out that I can’t have babies, that I’m not married, that I’m so young and IT MUST BE SO HORRIBLE. Which is not really the perspective I’m looking for.
No one can really tell me I’m normal, which is fine.
But to not feel like a complete alien? Would be awesome.
Which is very much what I feel like right now, physically, emotionally, etc.
I want to bite people. Or just shove them around a little. Or take a nap. Or sing really loudly. Or eat a Costco-full of tortilla chips. Or get a massage. Or a pedicure. Or remove my head and/or torso. Or throw up. Or cry and cry and cry.
But.
None of these things are on the agenda for now.
What is on the agenda?
I’m taking things personally that I know I shouldn’t, reacting fiercely when I know it’s not justified, thinking about stuff that doesn’t usually cross my mind, and wanting to rant about things that don’t matter.
On the inside, that is.
You’d never be able to tell, other than those occasional moments when I flush bright red and type with a little more passion. I’m pretty good at dealing.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t hate it.
I wish there was a witty way to discuss all of this. But all the jokes that seem funny about this to women twenty years older than me just seem like a smack in the face right now.
I’ll show you a “power surge”, all right. IN THE NOSE.
So, yeah. I know that men will be thinking AAAAA! THIS IS NOT SOMETHING I WANT TO READ ABOUT! HOW DID I GET HERE! and women will either go NOT TO ME, PLEASE! or BEEN THERE DONE THAT, but every now and then, despite the fact that I haven’t found the humour in all this yet?
I gotta write about it.
And by the time I am Nora’s age?
I will TOTALLY have it down.
No biting. People will talk.
Nora is overrated, too.
I hear ya sister! I go through the same thing and hear constantly “poor K, can’t have any of her OWN babies”. Whatever! I actually had one of my boss’s (who knows about this) ask me if I had “something to tell her” when I came out of the “Mother’s room” after changing my clothes. HUH?!
the biting – you can blame it on your mother – possible early weaning. or not … but never take responsibility.
i don’t have any good advice, or words of wisdom, or even a funny joke to tell you. i just wanted to say that i am thinking nice thoughts and sending them your way.
liz said what I was going to say.
And … I come here to read about you, no matter what you have to say. It doesn’t always have to be funny – though I do love when you are funny. I care about you and want to read about what’s going on in your life, no matter whether it is good or bad. So, keep writing and I’ll keep reading!!
You can write about it. There are some of us that won’t try to give advice or words of wisdom. We will just listen. Here is me listening.
I am the same age as you and I have hot flashes already. So I can relate a tiny little bit. I can hardly wait until I hit the age of menopause.. it’s going to be a hoot.
“I want to bite people. Or just shove them around a little. Or take a nap. Or sing really loudly. Or eat a Costco-full of tortilla chips. Or get a massage. Or a pedicure. Or remove my head and/or torso. Or throw up. Or cry and cry and cry.”
Just know that MANY of us feel this way. For me, it more often than not these days. I am ready to become a full-time hermit. A FAT one. With high blood pressure from too many salty foods. Hell, I AM an alien!
Not that it will necessarily make you feel any better, but know that you are not alone. I do know a couple of younger women in similar circumstances and it is VERY hard for them, too. I am *almost* old enough to be their mother (and yours!)and where I should be for my age in the life cycle – and it is still hard.
Just keep on keepin’ on, Meg – you are doing what you need to do to work it out.
I believe things happen for a reason and the reason(s) for your journey have yet to be fully revealed. “A time to every purpose under heaven.”
I never know what to say other than I think you’re fantastic and so flippin’ smart it makes my head hurt.