Perimenopause diaries: I'm tired

Toto, I'm not young anymore

I used to have mixed feelings whenever someone at work retires. Happiness for them, either sadness or relief that they are leaving, and one nagging question: what are these people going to do with all their free time? Nine+ extra free hours in the day, stretching empty and long. The sheer magnitude of that number used to be overwhelming, and slightly intimidiating. What would they fill all this extra time with? Wouldn’t they get bored?

Oh, to be young and innocent again. You see, I was having these thoughts when I was in my twenties and thirties, bursting with energy and good health, incapable to imagine ever not feeling that way.

Now I know better. I’m 44 (and-a-half, which is an important distinction because holy shit, hormones), my husband is 70. Let me recount two typical days for you, one where I’m working, one where I’m off.

Workday: Get up, coffee, work, walk, couch, bed.

Day off: I wake up at 5:30 am, not by choice. My body has programmed itself that way, silly girl. My Fitbit tells me that I slept approximately six hours, and that my sleep quality is only fair. I rarely get more than six hours these days, no matter how early I go to bed, because I’m awake throughout the night, tossing and turning. I’m an eight-hours-a-night-girl, so I need coffee, and lots of it. Once I’m suffiently caffeinated I grab the dogs to go for a long walk. My daily walks are a non-negotiable part of every day, a necessity for my mental and physical health. Without them, I would be a twitchy and lethargic nervous wreck.

During my walk I make a mental list of all the things I want to accomplish that day. I always feel most energized in the mornings, and the to-do list reflects that. It’s wildly unrealistic, created for the old me who had energy, balanced hormones, and eight hours of sound sleep.

Current me has none of those things. What I have instead is back pain, neck pain, regular lower abdominal pain, crazy bloating, cramping, hip bursitis, unpredictable heavy bleeding, brain fog, short-term memory problems, crazy mood swings, the occasional existantial despair and/or blind rage, an insatiable craving for sugar, a new dislike of meat, and constant tiredness. In fact, the tiredness has been so bad that I got a blood test done, which revealed that I’m anemic, which is unsurprising, given the amount of blood I’m losing. Now I’m taking iron supplements, which have their own set of challenges, but we won’t get into those today.

This means that once I’m back from my walk, after having fed and watered the dogs and myself, I need to lie down for a while. If I grab a book to read, more often than not I’ll fall asleep. If I’m lucky, I’ll get 20% of my list done; many days, it’s less than that.

This brings us back to my original question: is it hard to fill days without work? The answer: hell no. In fact, it requires so much energy and effort to simply get through the day (especially if you try to exercise regularly and need an inordinate amount of naps to recover) that you will never have enough hours in the day to accomplish everything you set out to do. The amount of maintance required to stay healthy has also gone up considerably: I get massages 2-4 times a month, I still go to therapy regularly, and I usually accompany my husband to his numerous doctor’s- and healthcare-appointments, because at 70, his short-term memory is even worse than mine, and I’m the keeper of his medical history, ready to recite it at the drop of a hat to anyone who needs to know.

To sum up: I’m tired. My body is as unpredictable these days as the weather we’re having, and it takes a lot of energy to love her through these changes.
I’m also in a curious phase of waiting: I’m waiting to see an OB/GYN, because the regular (male) doctors I’ve seen for my symptoms are at a loss, shrugging their shoulders and telling me that everything I’m experiencing is “normal”. I’m waiting for an ultrasound to check my uterus, I’m waiting for a mammogram to make sure nothing sinister is developing in my breasts, I’m waiting for menopause to be done with this nonsense.

Life-wise, we’re waiting for all the permits we need to start building our house (this process requires way more waiting than I anticipated, it’s really teaching me patience these days), I’m waiting for the proof of my new book, and I’m waiting for the puppy to grow out of her destructive phase.

Life is very much in a transitional phase right now, but I’m learning to enjoy this liminal stage instead of resenting it. The reason why I used to have such a hard time with liminal space was that I had this invisible, yet very loud clock ticking in my head. The clock kept reminding me with every tick that time is running out-time is running out-time is running out, which meant that I always felt rushed and in a panic.

For girls, that clock starts ticking as soon as puberty hits, when it tells you that you need a boyfriend/girlfriend to demonstrate to your friends your desirability, and it speeds up considerably as you reach your twenties and thirties when it urges you to get a life partner, kids, career, house, life of your dreams.

That clock doesn’t have to be there. In fact, I would argue that it’s an absolute necessity to remove it if you want to live in the present, and as we all know by now, living in the present is the ticket to a peaceful, happy life.

So here I am, in the messy middle, waiting and napping and practicing to love myself through it all. In Everything Is Broken and Completely Fine I call the phase between caterpillar and butterfly “the goopy stage”, referring to the time when the caterpillar seals itself into the chrysalis, being digested by its own digestive juices before emerging as a butterfly.

Change is hard. Going from young to not-that-young is hard, too. But if we hang in there, we will come out on the other end wiser, stronger, and ready to spread our wings.
And in the meantime, I’m gonna take a whole lot of naps in my chrysalis.

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Something exciting is coming your way …

… my new book is coming out September 10! You can pre-order the eBook here.

Three women. Two crimes. One Homeowner’s Association. And a whole lot of secrets…

Holly Kent: president of the Homeowner’s Association, harasser of Valerie, all-around nuisance.

Valerie Park: nurse, widow, harassee of Holly.
Clementine Harrison: photographer, yoga teacher, free spirit, defender of harassed women.

After selling everything she owns and road tripping across Canada in a converted school bus named Matilda, Clementine moves next door to Valerie. 

Valerie is depressed, scared, and lonely. And even though she doesn’t know it, she’s also the victim of a crime.

Clementine befriends Valerie and helps her find her voice, her courage, and an independence she never knew she possessed. Together they embark on a mission to dethrone Holly Kent, the tyrant of their neighbourhood who polices everything her neighbours do. 

In the process they discover a few shocking secrets that make them question everything they thought they knew...