Menopausal Madness

Menopausal Madness

I wake up and I hate the world, the sun is shining but I don’t care, I don’t have to go to work, but I don’t care, I have nothing planned, but I don’t care. I am angry. I look at my face in the mirror and I want to smash it from the wall.

I get dressed and go downstairs. I put the radio on and hear about the economy crashing and I don’t care, the bankers are getting huge bonuses and I don’t care, a child gets a lifesaving operation and I don’t care. I make some tea and I want to smash the cup I am holding against the wall, I want to scream and yell and break things. I look out of the window and see a blue tit hanging upside down on my bird feeder and I start to cry, and then sob and the tears pour out of me as if I were a broken aquarium, all smashed glass and harsh gravel, the small things flapping helplessly are my thoughts and I am lost among the weeds.

I am sitting on the floor, my cup still in my hand; somehow during my descent the tea remained unspilled. I stare at the pattern of the laminate, fake wood, it needs cleaning but I don’t care. I pick myself up and sit at the table, staring out of the window and drink my tea. The Bluetit has been replaced by a pair of sparrows quarrelling over the crumbs of yesterday’s bread.  I dry my eyes and blow my nose. As I watch the birds I realise that nothing is wrong in my life, no reason for this anger, no reason for the tears. My husband is a good, kind, loving man. My family love me and I love them. I have a good job, working with people I like (for the most part). I have good friends who listen to me when I am down and laugh with me when I am happy. I have a lovely home with a beautiful garden that I love to work in. Nature visits us in the form of birds, a mad squirrel that runs along the washing line like a small grey ninja and tank like badgers visit in the evening and fill our garden with their huffing and puffing.

But Mother Nature has brought other things into my life; from the day I was born she has been pushing and pulling me through the years from puberty it starts. The painful tenderness of new breasts. The spots. The puppy fat.  The premenstrual tension. The pain of menstruation.  Then pregnancy, vomiting, heartburn, sore breasts, stretch marks, twenty six hours of labour, a caesarean section, haemorrhoids, sore nipples from breastfeeding, varicose veins. The wrinkles increase, your breasts sag and your stomach bags. Then the menopause, and your periods are erratic, too heavy, hot flushes and night sweats, unexpected dizzy spells and oh dear god the mood swings and anger and paranoia and finally you find yourself sitting on your kitchen floor crying and angry at the world and you feel like a madwoman.

What more can Mother Nature possibly do to you?

Ah but she has one final gift before she takes her hormones and leaves you in peace for your final years and the gift she leaves you with is one you will fight against until the day you die, it is the cause of my final descent into uncontrollable rage and madness, the reason for my sorrow and self-pity, because when I looked in the mirror this morning I realised that, just to add insult to all the other injuries, Mother Nature, that hormonal old bitch, has given me a beard!!