I’m not old yet. I just wish my body would stop trying to say otherwise. I’m going to be 52 this month. That’s really not that old. But I laugh as I remember a time when I thought it was.
Ever feel as though your body has turned into that rebellious teenager you can’t control, and it’s doing everything you don’t want it to, just to spite you? You don’t want to feel old, so it’s going to do everything it can to make you feel like your aging mother or grandmother you remember from childhood. :: sigh ::
I shouldn’t sound so pessimistic. It’s not always like that. It’s just that, sometimes you have those days that you want to trade your body in for a new one, y’know? Oh, and seeing your own kid with that lack of fear of mortality…. Gods above, I miss that.
I suppose today is just one of those days. I’m writing to show that menopause, and getting older is no picnic. I don’t want to be grandma. As I get older, I want to be like this chick:
I’m a lucky mother. My son is 20 years old. When he went through those teenage years, he wasn’t a “rebellious teenager”. We have a good relationship and it’s always been that way. We’ve always been able to talk to each other. Now, as with any relationship, there are days you can do better on your communication…
I’m sure that’s what goes on with your body as you age. Everything is changing and you have to learn how to communicate with each other all over again.
Gah… Seriously, people, I don’t feel that old. Well, except for right now, but that’s another story completely. I hear, “At your age,” and I think of my Gran when she was in her 80’s. I’m not even close.
But I am post-menopausal and there are things I need to do that I don’t; for example, bone density tests. And right now I’m dealing with that little issue.
A little back history (ahahahaha!! Unintended pun!!!).
A little over a month ago I decided to get a new pair of sneakers. This lovely pair of Chuck Taylors caught my eye. I haven’t worn that brand in a long time. These weren’t your standard canvas CTs, noooo…. They were black leather and canvas.
I had to have them.
About a day or two later we had a very foggy morning, leaving our concrete porch extremely wet. I’d just made a run to … somewhere… honestly, I don’t remember and that part of the story is irrelevant anyway. On my way in my feet, in these new Chuck Taylors, decided it would be a good time to remind me that this particular brand of shoes have crap for traction on slick surfaces. My feet went right out from under me and I landed flat on my tuchus.
I felt everything in my spine compress and I knew I’d broken my tailbone. Eh, what can be done about a broken tailbone? I figured I’d just jammed everything else together and I’d be sore for a couple of weeks.
A month later, not only had things not improved, they were actually getting worse. I had to go to an orthopedist. He did x-rays and an MRI, and I found out I had compression fractures in 3 of my vertebrae.
WHAT??? But all I did was fall on my a**! This didn’t used to happen!!
Oh, and if this wasn’t alarming, evidently, this wasn’t the first time I’d done something like this. I also have older compression fractures that have healed.
So why am I telling you all this?
Get your bone density tests. It doesn’t matter how old you are. If you went into early menopause, get your bone density tests done anyway. You don’t want to end up in a back brace looking that’s more like a medical corset because of your fashion choice on a foggy morning.
Pride is a quiet being that lurks inside of all of us. It sneaks out sometimes, in the form of judgment, and we don’t even notice it. It stings. It makes us feel ashamed; make us hide things. It can bring us down and make us cry. We can even hate ourselves because of our own pride and mixed emotions we don’t understand. Continue reading “Pride”→
A real job. I start tomorrow, on a holiday, because he’s got a new design project and he has so many other clients who are waiting. I didn’t have to start tomorrow, but I really didn’t mind doing so.
Up until tonight I still didn’t think this was really happening, but it is. I have a job.
It started when I met S a couple of years ago, actually. Mr. Magick Man’s best friend introduced us in late 2011. He knew I was looking for a job, and S owned his own business. If nothing else, this would be a great networking opportunity for me since, at the time, I was looking for a project management position.
S was a very nice guy, but he was really looking for someone in the design field. I had little-to-no experience in graphic design at that time. I didn’t hear from him again.
A few weeks ago, the same friend who introduced us lost his battle with cancer. Mr. Magick Man and I went to see him while he was in hospice and we ran into S while we were there. S mentioned he’d heard I’d been working more in the graphic design field and been taking some classes. I said yes, and I had more experience since we last spoke. He asked me to send him my portfolio.
Well, I sent him a link to the online copy of some of my best work, and an updated copy of my resume, and he really liked what he saw. So he asked me if I had time to come in and talk for a bit. This was last week. “Of course,” I said.
An interview?? What am I going to do with my incense and oils business? I just started Tempest Mystic Products!! I talked to Mr. Magick Man, and he immediately assured me he’d help me in any way possible. Do I need someone to make incense in the mornings? He can do that. “That’s the beauty of owning your own store,” he says. “You have employees. I don’t have to open the store. I’m not the only one there in the mornings.” I just need to show him what to do. He’s wonderful. Have I mentioned that yet?
The interview itself was probably the most unique interview I’ve ever experienced. I sat down and just had a conversation. I found out this was partially because he had no idea exactly what he wanted me to do, he just knew he needed me to do something. I have strong project management skills but I also have a passion and talent for graphic design. it’s difficult to find one employee who can fill both of those roles. Initially, he thought he just needed another graphic designer but by the time we met for our interview he wasn’t sure that was the case.
Without a defined role, it’s hard to have an interview.
We did discuss the incense business and my time. I told him I’ve already got Tempest covered, so that’s not an issue. We discussed my areas of expertise. We started talking about what he does and clients. I didn’t have to be prompted to ask questions; they just kind of “flowed”. But after all this he still couldn’t tell me what he needed me to do.
So I gave him my opinion.
“It sounds like you need someone to manage the projects you have and map them out. Show you where your lag time is, identify resources, proactively reach out to the appropriate contacts in the project as needed, etc…, and you need someone to help out with design projects on occasion – kind of like a floater in that area.”
I decided this entry would have to be a two-part story because it’s just so lengthy. Or, maybe it just seems lengthy to me because I have so little free time lately. 🙂
Regardless, I could easily write about what is going on now, but to truly understand one needs the background of what has gone on over the past couple of years (or, at least an abridged version).
I was laid off in February of 2011. I won’t go into a story of the cycle of depression one fights with that experience. I briefly touched on it when I hit my 1-year anniversary of unemployment.
At 47 years of age, one finds it difficult to find employment, regardless of laws against age discrimination. Looking for full-time employment? Good luck in the current economy, regardless of your age. August 3 of this year was the 2-and-a-half-year anniversary of my unemployment… technically…
See, eventually I had to do something or I’d go crazy. I started my own consulting business, designing logos and brochures. I found I have a creative streak. But my marketing skills? Ehh… not so great (not for myself, anyway). So in my free time, a few months ago, I started making incense. This has taken off.
My garage and my home smell wonderful. My house looks like a stockroom right now. But Tempest Mystic Products is up and running. 🙂
These past two months have been so busy! I’ve been building up inventory for a major festival this October. My routine:
Get up at 4am. Drink coffee.
Work in the garage from 4:30am – 8:00am
putting incense out to dry
or harvesting dry incense
Shower (it’s hot in that garage)
Mix oils for more incense
Bag and Tag dry sticks
Product Development/Fulfill Orders
Oh, and somewhere in there I do remember to eat.
Of course, now that I’ve finally found something that works, what do I get?
As I write, the pain flows through me. I can’t begin to describe the overwhelming feelings of depression, frustration, anger…. I just know I’m so sick of being ok one moment then being a weepy mess. And I’m running out of cheap crockery to throw.
This is what menopause is like. No one tells you about this part of the process. You’ll always hear about the periods you’ll never miss, or the hot-flashes. It’s been nearly three years since I’ve had a cycle. That much is true – I don’t miss that mess. Hot-flashes? Yeah, they’re inconvenient, but easily dealt with. It’s this last stop on the Menopause Express I could do without.
I can’t speak for all families. I came from a highly dysfunctional family. Mom was never comfortable with her age, much less, herself. I remember her being “29” on her birthday for so many years, until I innocently asked her one year why she stayed the same age but I kept getting older. She dodged the answer, but the next year, she was “30”. Mom never talked about “the change” when it hit. She never told my sister or me what to expect, other than, “Oh, my God! It’s hot in here!” And her moods were never stable. But then again, her moods were never stable, so that was hardly noticeable.
My sister is six years older than me. I was always grateful, growing up, to have her around. When puberty hit I knew what to expect because I saw her go through the process. My sister and I were close (and still are); I could ask her questions. She taught me how to shave my legs, and all the other girly-things one needs to know when puberty strikes. But menopause has been different. The change struck both of us at the same time. We have each other to talk to, but no one to learn from.
That got me wondering, “how many women are in this same situation?” By the time they hit that point in their lives, are their mothers still around? If they’re lucky enough to have mom around, what if mom was the type that never talked about these things? If you come from that family, chances are, you aren’t going to go asking mom about what’s happening to your body by the time you’re in your 40’s or 50’s. Are you one to talk about what’s happening to your body?
For those who follow my blog or have read my blog, you’ve figured out by now what I write about may have nothing to do with menopause, itself. It’s more of a blog of everyday life, from a woman riding that crazy train. Nonetheless, today’s post does have to do with menopause, somewhat…
Today is Purple Day, supporting Epilepsy around the world. Women who have Epilepsy are particularly concerned about Menopause. We do not know how “the change” will affect us. Geez, even our neurologists can’t seem to give us a straight answer on the subject. “Every woman is different.” “Some women notice their seizure activity decreases, others see an increase in activity with the change in hormone levels.” In other words, Neurologists who specialize in Epilepsy are just as much in the dark as the patients they treat. As far as we’ve come in research, more research needs to be done in so many areas. So I’m making this post and doing my part to spread awareness today.
There are so many patients out there who are on enough medications to knock out a horse and still can’t control their seizures. This is more than just wearing purple. Go. Look for yourself.