Things I Am Not Loving About Aging/Perimenopause:
3) Decreased ability to handle my liquor
4) Age spots (on my once flawless, nay, porcelain-like skin)
5) Weight gain
6) Irregular menstrual flow / spotting (more unexpectedly ruined pairs of underwear than a tween-age girl)
7) Migraine headaches
8) QTR (Quick To Rage)
And, WHAT THE HELL is the matter with People?
In a desperate/practical attempt at self preservation, I have completely left Facebook. I also have strict rules for myself about my news intake. I have a 30 minute auto commute to work, and not surprisingly, #Fucking45 has made any kind of news difficult to digest.
I let myself check the TV news for weather and natural disasters prior to heading out for my dog walk with my geriatric Labrador.
I indulge in 5 to 10 minutes of OPB on my drive. When I catch myself screaming out loud to the radio, I switch over to audio books from my beloved Multnomah County Library.
Now I’m on to The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood. Handmaid’s Tale was published in 1985. I read it for the first time in 1987, right after I graduated from Berkeley High School. I cannot think of another book that I read during my teen years that affected me so deeply. To this day, if I stand in my kitchen and am baking with butter, I recall the story and rub a pat of butter into my dry skin in tribute.
This morning, was a day off work for me. I awoke at about 4am, with a headache. I turned on the local TV news, and was treated to this:
Seriously. What the ACTUAL Fuck?
TV back off now… moving on.
Things That Make My Heart Explode (In a good way)
Pretty much, my husband and my son.
And my chickens. I do not know how I made it into my 40s without having chickens in my life.
Chickens are better than Citalopram, Prozac, Ativan, combined.
When I feel sad, anxious, as if we are facing The End Times…. I head directly out the chicken coop. Everything is happy, healthy, and good, in our chicken coop.
And my son, HH, who will be leaving soon to spend 7 weeks in Panama with the Amigos International program.
This was my Mothers Day card. My son made it, he’s 16 and digs calligraphy.
My life is good. Insomnia, tough job, perimenopausal rage, and all.