The Time Of Snowflakes

Womanhood. It’s not for the weak. It's full of peaks and valleys, mountains and canyons, rosey feelings and dark thoughts. I am thankful that more is being done to recognize the changes that women have to go through. In the 90s, when my mother was going through such things, there was little to no knowledge out there. Women were just expected to smile through the hormone changes, lack of libidio, weight gain for no apparent reason, body aches, mood shifts, hot flashes, and the list goes on and varies depending on the person, depending on the woman. We are snowflakes, each one more unique than the other. Our own special genetic makeup dictating how we should feel and when we should feel it.

I am going through said change. When I asked my mother, my one and only gauge, as to how she felt during this time, she looked at me a bit puzzled like she had no idea what I might mean. Aren't I too young to be going through menopause, I'm sure she was thinking She didn’t know about the dreaded before when your body and mind ceases to make any kind of sense to you. Menopause was kind of talked about I suppose or more like whispered in darkened allyways, but the awful purgatory that happens before the dreaded M word was a mystery. I believe that my mother, and many of the other women during this time, just felt like this was their life now. Anxiety riddled, worry bloated. Divorce and suicide of women spike during this time and now I understand why.

It’s not fair, I want to scream to the masses, and I want the masses to all be made up of men. They should know what it feels like to be a stranger in your own body. Things that caused you no pain, no feelings of angst in your past, now are a bigger deal than you can ever imagine. Bubbling anger threatens to overtake your brain at the most inoportune moments. Three A.M. becomes your new wakeup call. Blankets become a torture chamber as you are freezing one minute and then wrestling them off of your too hot body the next. (Any one else have legs that are too hot and arms that are too cold? And it only seems to happen at night.)

Research is still needed to be done or at the very least a bit of communication. I love telling my doctors, even the female ones, my symptoms and instead of possible solutions I’m met with blank stares and maybe a sympathetic nod or two if I'm lucky.

Perimenopause wasn’t even recognizes as a term until the 1960s-1970s. In the 1980s more research was being done, but I feel it hasn’t been until perhaps the 2020s that woman are sharing their stories. It's no longer something that is whispered, but something discussed in forums on line, through instagram, tiktok, and men are even joining the conversation. These progressive males who are not afraid to recognize that their wives are going through something abhorrent and they should be praised, instead of shunned for the feelings that crowd their minds, their bodies, their souls.

I'm lucky enough to have one of those progressive males by my side. He has done his own research or at the very least watches the plethora of videos I send him daily to show that I am not alone and crazy in what I am experiencing. I'm so grateful for his patience, and he has to have a lot of it, during the times that I spiral and then feel monstrous and out of control after.

I wish I was more graceful, more patient, more kind during those times. I have embraced things that have helped. Self care makes me feel like a different person, although I may be taking it to the next level. (The Amazon driver probably agrees as he delivers yet another box of lotions, serums, eye and forehead patches, chin wraps, etc. to our house.) But you have to do what makes you happy, and this time is the most crucial because losing bits and pieces of your femininity like a slow burning volcano is no joke, should not be ignored, and should be embraced for the strength all of us women have to possess to endure such a thing.