MENOPAUSE

I thought I had a UTI. I was feverish. I went to the doctor to get tested. She said I didn’t have an infection; I was POSTMENOPAUSAL. Those were hot flashes I was having. I was only 48. ‘When does menopause usually start’, I asked. ’Menopause normally starts between 48 and 55 years of age’, my doctor replied. ‘But I’m 48', I said. ‘Yeah’, she said. That was almost 10 years ago. I’m not going to talk about all the physical shit that happens to your body, that’s hard enough. I need to talk about the utter death to the old me that has occurred. The fright and panic and confusion that sets in as you let go of your childbearing womanhood and set into grey hair and wrinkles. And this has nothing to do with babies, whether you’ve had them or not, this has to do with the nature of things and the process of life.

We get pushed out of our mothers’ wombs, into this cold world, helpless. We are all just animals made of meat. We all have that in common. We breathe, eat, shit and cry. We love, hate, and experience agony and pure joy. That I do know. That we all know. We grow up, get big, and live our lives. We go to school. We all get older and experience similar milestones. Men, and woman alike, we are all meat sacks, doing their thing, until the meat sack gives out, gets injured (because a sack is very vulnerable really), or gets taken out by something, and then we die. And our soul goes to heaven. Or if you are atheist, it’s lights out for that little spark of consciousness in you, that has been a mystery to you your whole life, but that’s up to you. I prefer faith. I’m going to heaven. See ya.

But I digress, this is about fucking menopause. I’m almost through with the worst of it. Hot flashes are finally subsiding. My pussy has completely atrophied, lets be fucking real. I have atropussy and that’s ok because I don’t have one single hormone left in my body making want to do anything with my atropussy anyway. And I don’t even want to pretend to want sex. I have had a lot of sex in my lifetime, some of it good, some of it not so much. I don’t regret any of it. I enjoyed my body and my sexuality to the fullest. No regrets!! Not that I didn’t make mistakes. I made a TON, but I Iearned from each one, so I regret nothing, not even the crabs or STD’s.

But I digress again, I have gone through a shedding of old that has been scary. Why is it so scary to let go of the shit that no longer serves you? It makes no sense. But it is. Because I set up my life up to this point, it’s really all on me to change it. And that is scary. My body went through the change whether I wanted it to or not, but the heart and mind are so set in its’ ways. The meat sack is giving out. I can accept that. I gave up the botox and fillers years ago. What’s the point? I don’t regret having done it. It helped me look better for a while. I still look good, for my meat sack’s age. And that’s enough. It’s so true when you hear old people say they are just happy they woke up and they can still do a few things. My hands and feet are starting to look so old, but damn they have worked hard for me, and continue to be able to do quite a lot, thank God. So I can be grateful. But I have also had to look deep inside, into the dark corners, and I’ve seen it before, but this time, I’ve had the time and head space to heal it. Acknowledging it and healing it are two very different things. And only I can heal it, because I was born into this world as an individual soul, and I will die as an individual soul. Isn’t that nicer than saying you are born alone, and you die alone, which is basically what I am saying, but in a more spiritual way. We have love and support in our lives, but nobody understands us like we understand ourselves. You can watch a sunset with a loved one, and feel connected deeply, but you are both seeing that sunset with your own perspective. You don’t see it the same way. And that’s ok. You love that sunset, and you love who you are with, but I see now that I must learn to love myself so I can love the sunset and the person I’m with even more. Easier said than done.

This is how my menopausal journey has gone so far. I first got mad. Mad at the world. Mad at men for putting woman down for CENTURIES. It was a collective rage. My husband really enjoyed that phase. Ha. Then I realized that I am not here to reproduce or make dinner. So it started with that. Then it moved to looking inside myself and learning who I was without all the society and parental imprinting that had been put on me my entire life. Who was I? Like the Talking Heads Song ‘How did I get here?’. And I’m not saying I looked around and hated what I saw. I had, let’s say, manifested the exact life I envisioned for myself. I was happy and fulfilled. But I did not feel FREE. I did not feel free because I’d forgotten who I was in all the roles I had been playing. I was a mom, which is fucking fantastic in the selfless love it teaches you. I was a wife and was lucky to have and still have a partner who is good and loyal and loves me. I was a businesswoman who found her way in the 80’s and 90’s in a male dominated world. And I was the daughter of a narcissist alcoholic, who probably taught me the most in this lifetime. But who was I? Who was Shanon? It feels weird even asking that. We are taught as women, in my generation anyway, to be selfless and give and not think about ourselves. My dad would say things like ‘Oh it’s the Shanon Show!’ Like it was a bad thing. ‘Don’t be so selfish little girl and do what you actually want’. I do agree that a big part of being happy in life is to be of service to others. But many women get lost in that. They feel guilty if they think about themselves. I know I do. But not anymore. From now on the answer is NO. If it doesn’t bring me joy and make me feel free, I’m not doing it. Does making dinner bring me joy and make me feel free? Fuck no. Neither do the dishes. I know a lot of people love to cook. Good on them. I snack my way through life and have lost a bunch of weight since I stopped giving a fuck about other people’s hunger. It’s the Shanon Show. It’s back. No apologies this time. I do, however, like to shop and will buy all the food. That brings me joy. That makes me happy. It’s just one small step to feeling freer, and more joyful. My rage has subsided, because I do what I want more often. Simple as that.

Bit by bit I will continue to learn what my heart really wants, and I hope to have the courage to go for it. My meat sack is getting sore. I can’t see well anymore. My pussy has atrophied. So I have the right to follow MY dreams. I have nothing holding back but the old me bound but what I thought I should do and who I thought I should be. I desire now to feel free from the expectations I put on myself, like an idiot. And I need to forgive myself for being an idiot. Life is a process, for all of us. My favorite moto has always been, it’s not getting what you want, its knowing what you want, that’s the trick. I’m trying to listen to my soul more deeply. Even if my soul wants to sit on the couch and snack all day. I will follow that desire, and feel free to help yourself, the fridge is full of food.