You are a crazy bitch, HORMONES!

This is written from my experiences only. I am not offering any medical advice. Please see your GP should you have any concerns. Trigger warning for suicide.

Now, not for a minute and I suggesting that I am a bitch, although perhaps one of my children might disagree with this, but recently I took myself off to get desexed. I was OVAH IT ALL and here is why.

Following about two years of increasingly hectic periods, to the point that if I sneezed in public it was game over for this little black duck, my moods could only be described as fucking psychotically miserable to the point that I couldn’t stand the thought of myself wildly erratic. I would cry in the shower, cry watching television, cry when I was talking on the phone to a telemarketer, basically I was either seething or bawling. If someone looked at me sideways, I would plot their demise. I could not sleep. And after two years of it escalating, I decided I needed to do something about it.

I had lost a lot of my life to this goddam awful peri-menopausal phase. I had lost my nerve, my confidence, by ability to make a decision, my work, my joy and my mojo. And sometimes the inability to string more than 4 words together.

Hell, something had to be done because I had nothing left to lose.

I lined up a few gyno appointments. Now the thing about Gynos is that it is a bit like finding the right therapist. You need someone who is on your side and you have to shop around until you find the perfect match.

A highly regarded male Dr. in the fanciest Office in Macquarie Street, watched as I wept during our initial consultation before telling me that I just needed to go on anti-depressants. And then he looked at his watch.

Thank you NEXT.

Now this is not just happening to me. This is happening to A LOT OF YOU SITTING THERE READING THIS RIGHT NOW and I know this because you are telling me. Please check out this list. It says menopause but it is also for peri. How many can you check off?

Did you know that you can have these fucked symptoms for up to ten years before laying your last ever egg? And we have been putting up with this since Jesus played Halfback for Nazareth? I mean, I am 47. An age when I should know myself better. I was circling the drain of despair and it was not even me!

My Doctor went through all my symptoms, took some blood, took to my cervix with a teeny tiny but mighty sharp ice cream scoop to send to the pathologist and then, we made a plan.

Action stations were manned (after consultations, test results examined and other stuff that you don’t really need to know because I don’t want to leave this planet without some tiny sliver of discretion and mystery) and 5 weeks ago I joined Planet Hyster Sister, as the ute was backed out of the garage.

Or in my case, backed out of my belly button. Discretion and mystery is over-rated anyway.

I had a hysterectomy.

Why am I telling you all this? Because if you are going through the same thing, I need you to know that you do NOT have to put up with it. And also, because of this..

Australian statistical data show that the highest age-specific suicide rate for females in 2015 was in the 45–49 age group. The second highest rate of suicide was in women aged between 50 and 54 years. These suicides should alert us to think about contributing factors, including biological changes in the gonadal hormones associated with the transition to menopause as well as social and psychological stresses in the midlife period. Source HERE.

I know that this is not a particularly cheery post that will make to go away all inspired to do something amazing or re-think the way you fold your towels, but I hope that it is helpful to some of you.

Even if it is just one of you.

Anyway, enough about me. And how are you? Keeping well?