This Month Gives One Pause

October is World Menopause Awareness Month.  Ladies (of a certain age), I will let that sink in for a minute....  I have tried to envision the decorative door wreath I could make for this month. I see a circle of dried up flowers and leaves to which I would hot glue small battery operated fans, granny panties and shredded pieces of my divorce decree.  Now I know not every woman has the kind of brutal menopause that I experienced.  There is always that one friend that says she barely noticed it happening (I want to throat punch that friend, by the way).  But, most women who have gone, or are going through menopause have similar experiences of varying degrees.  It is a shared sisterhood and the loneliest existence, at the same time.

I won't go into a lengthy, detailed description of the ten long years that it took me to navigate the three stages of menopause, but here are the highlights.  Perimenopause:  weight gain, fatigue, and a personality shift to rival Jekyl and Hyde.  Menopause:  Sleepless, sweat soaked nights ending with me sitting on the back patio at 2:00 am, trying to cool down while chain smoking, crying, and plotting my sleeping husband's death.  Post Menopause:  Aside from the permanent belly fat and dry skin, pretty blissful, sort of like floating in a calm bay after riding out a violent ocean storm in a very small boat during which you went way off course and your husband fell overboard.

Looking back, it's easy to laugh about, but menopause was a confusing and difficult time that had it's onset right, smack dab in the middle of what should have been the best time of my life.  I may be a wee bit bitter about it now, but being a woman means navigating the deep complexities and contradictions that comprise us.  I'm not sure just one month is enough awareness or too much, but suffice to say, my menopause experience has compelled me to speak out here in my blog, through my social media, talking one-on-one with other women, and even in a theatrical monologue about the profound meaning this transition has in a woman's journey.  Perhaps the most universal experience among the women I have shared with is the feeling of being invisible.  

So instead of crafting a door wreath, I think I will just walk up to every middle aged woman I encounter this month and say, "I see you."

SEH

I'm So Bored!!

I'm so bored!  Have I run out of projects?  No.  Am I unable to connect with (vaccinated) friends over coffee?  No.  Do I have a legitimate reason (aside from the hot temps outside) to stay isolated in my little apartment, rarely venturing out except to shop for groceries or drive thru Sonic for a breakfast burrito?  Not really.  Have I lost the will to do all of these things?  Yes.  And, as a result of losing the impetus to exert any energy for even basic chores, I am bored out of my mind!

In case you are tempted to diagnosis my ennui, believe me when I tell you I am not depressed, I am not ill, I really can't even blame my advanced age (66 is the new 65 after all), I am just bored.  So if we are going to unpack any psychosis today, let's unpack "pandemic induced boredom".

Merriam-Webster dictionary defines bored as "the state of being weary and restless through lack of interest".  I gave this definition a great deal of thought.  Why have I lost interest?  I mean, in reality my life hasn't significantly changed much during this pandemic.  I am retired, so I'm not missing my job.  I live alone and enjoy living alone, able to pick and chose those times I want to be by myself and when I want to be social.  So what is the problem?!  What has caused my get-up-and-go to grind to a halt?  I have a couple of theories.

One, the few activities that I have not been able to enjoy because of Covid (community theater productions and festivals/concerts/parties) turned out to be more important to my mental well being than I realized.

Two, the idea that new activities that could give me good excuses for putting off the mundane daily chores/activities are not presenting themselves these days.  I had no idea how much I thrive on engaging with new people, new challenges and new places.  I am also developing guilty feelings about my lack of desire to do laundry or clean house, activities I pre-pandemic felt no guilt whatsoever about ignoring.

So what am I saying here?  I suppose the lack of "distractions" is what Merriam-Webster is describing as my "interest".  I realize that so many of us are having very real mental issues surviving this difficult time, and my boredom is, in the big picture, a petty complaint.  In the words of my friend, Shana Ledet Qualls, I need to scratch my ass and get happy.  So I will stop complaining.  Thanks for listening to my TED talk.