Little Summer

Hot flush, hot flush, hot flush.

I can’t be having hot flushes already can I?

Yes I can is the answer, they wake me in the night. I’m not sweaty - probably I’m too dehydrated for that, but a sensation of intense heat crawls over my body, my hands feel hot. Hot hands, very hot hands, and face and chest and feet.

Friends keep commenting on how brave I am to be wearing my Birkenstocks or (poorly feet shoes as Erbie calls them) when the weather is so unpredictable, I smile and say: ‘I know!’, actually thinking because they are on fire and the thought of putting them into a shoe or sock gives me palpitations.

Then there is the rage, gosh I feel rather angry waves over me as I get cross with Erbie for not being asleep and give him a snuggle to make up for it. Then the tears, not floods, I’m not a flooder, you really have to squash and squeeze a teardrop from me, but my tear ducts got wet whilst watching the Baftas, for goodness sake, I blame the rosé.

I also blame the wine for the apathy, or is that just me. The worst is the midriff, once washboard now more muffin top.

I’m ...., actually what am I? I’ve been saying I’m 46 for too long, I think I may now be a couple of years older than that, which means I could very probably be peri-menopausal, the symptoms start well in advance apparently.

[I’m on the Mirena which is a hormonal coil for contraception and after 6 months my periods stopped, which can happen. I don’t miss them. When I was breastfeeding, my periods stopped of their own accord for a year, (I had a regular copper coil inserted in 2009) as soon as I stopped breastfeeding back they came and slowly got worse until I was virtually bleeding without a break. I got anaemic, I was tired constantly, so after careful consideration had a Mirena inserted in February 2015.]

I need to sort myself out. Make the beds, Kondo the drawers, plan a trip, clean the windows, get a pedicure and a manicure, go for a facial, re-assess the wardrobe, do some yoga, meditate, do the tax returns, menu-plan, go into town, read more; at least put some make-up on and wash my hair. God the apathy is overwhelming.

I don’t want beta-fricking-blockers I want neat serotonin.

I went to the doctor to get me some anti-depressants and was offered beta-blockers. 

It’s the first time I’ve opened up and said I was not really coping and I became a little overwhelmed, so I guess she thought I was having a panic attack and went straight down that road. Anyway I’ve been given some websites to look at:

moodgym, mindgym and bigwhitewall. I did not take the prescription. 

I need to see the sunshine again. 

I’ve healed my colitis (touch wood) with diet (thank-you Deliciously Ella and the internet) and the free 10 minute breathing exercises from Headspace which gave my stomach time to relax; now I need to heal my mind. 

The GR is unhappy, frustrated and angry most of the time which he takes out on his nearest and dearest - ie me, and I suppose in a way I enable that behaviour. 

Erbie has been bullied at school, on and off since starting, the Grandad is much trickier than I ever anticipated and the Belle Mere is well, The Belle Mere. 

Don’t get me started on the constant building noise from neighbours. 

All this along with a prolonged death from cancer and one suicide from a best friend, mind you that was after her sister had stabbed and killed her mother, so who wouldn’t. Oh and I had to take Erbie to that funeral as it was the same day as TheGR’s brother’s funeral, so neither of us could be there for one another. We don’t sleep in the same bed, we argue and shout, the flat looks unloved, we look unloved, everytime we pick ourselves up something else happens, when will this cycle end?

I try and put pockets of happiness in, martini’s help, Erbie is adorable, my allotment is a welcome escape but I even find that overwhelming sometimes. 

I’m offloading. 

I’ll be okay.