Live, Observe, Learn, Repeat

The ‘joys’ of this are a whole new thing. I’ve decided (at least for the number of minutes I am going to be sitting at my MacBook…I used to be a PC girl, but I’ve been converted… and for as long as I am writing this) that we’re going to focus on the almost light-hearted and the mildly amusing (this is self-therapy as much as the sharing of self-therapy strategies). Woven within the intended almost light-hearted and the mildly amusing, some more 'negative' experiences will undoubtedly rear their metaphorical heads, but we shall allow that and then bash them a little more in the hope that they will submit and crawl back into the shadows somewhere other than ‘here’. Yes, that.

Admittedly, I am nearly 50 (3 months and 9 days until that half-century point which has resulted in my qualification for a bodily MOT check, booked for December upcoming, with one of the many kind-hearted souls who work for the NHS, as they (undoubtedly) are navigating their working life stresses amidst their own trials and tribulations outside of the NHS). I must confess too that my son (and stabilising force in my role as mum…the only role to date that has not gone disastrously wrong in one capacity or another) is moving out again tomorrow. Yes, I’ve survived this transition previously on the other times it has occurred and yes, I will do so again, but to not mention it would be to omit important information. Also, contextually, I am not fully managing this ‘no longer working full time, at least not currently’, and seem to have (carelessly) misplaced all sense of purpose that was once intrinsically linked to my role and the communities within which I worked. So, those things stated, it might be fair to say I cannot only rant against whatever the hormones are up to during this whole new season of life. It might be fairer to widen the rant to these other aspects of life too…but even so, I reckon it’s a brilliant time (not) to also embark on a whole new battle of the hormones. Who arranged the timings of when all this would kick in, I wonder? Interesting planning.

“Slap on a patch”, is what an old colleague would tell me if she were still in touch. That’s what she did. In fact, on some days, I think (from how she ‘presented’) she applied more than one. “Take the HRT” is what my sister tells me. Mum is backing her up too. But no, just to enable my husband to share more of this process (alongside the many ‘joys’ of living with me) I decided to try something I saw on Instagram that promised to balance my hormones. Right.

Yes, I knew it was probably all sales mumbo jumbo and there was probably not an ounce of truth in all the claims, but nevertheless, after many 'looks' at it, I ordered one bottle of the magic pills. If they did as they claim, oh my; my life would be transformed (as will my figure, which would be an additional bonus). The packet came and I noticed the many asterisks next to every statement printed on the packaging on both the box and the bottle therein. Being the kind of being who likes to have some kind of idea about what’s what, I had a little look at the * section to find that some medical authority or other hasn’t yet proved the claims made on the pre-mentioned packaging. Hmmmm. Generally, I tend to be sceptical about most things, but every now and again (when the stakes are high enough or the situation desperate enough), I will wander off into unchartered territory and spend even just a little time believing that I now have the answer via a product or a method of living.

Didn’t the advert used to say, “Only Smarties have the answer”? If these pills are the answer, both Smarties and I will have the answer. Hang on. Thinking about it, regarding Smarties, what was the question? Dawn, stay focussed.

So, to be clear, I spent money that could very easily have been spent on items more likely to do ‘exactly what they say on the tin’ (other receptacles are available), on these potentially magic pills.

We’re now three days into taking them. I feel sick. I have a headache. I am drained and have a small amount of buzzing inside my head. There is a burning sensation behind my breastbone and a weird taste in my mouth plus a horrid coating on my tongue. Excellent. Yes. Good. So, to be clear (again), the non-medically verified substance I paid actual money for in the hope it would be a miracle cure may well have a route to its claims that I wasn’t anticipating. Maybe it meant that all the uncontrollable emotional nonsense of this hormonal shifting season would seem less while I try to fight off the nausea and head pains. Maybe that was it. Clever, if it was. I fell for it…although maybe that’s not evidence of it being a clever route for the company to follow.

I was planning on being over all this within weeks, if not days. I did do a little internet searching and saw some data that suggested this ‘phase’ is likely to last for between four and eight years. Years?! Wtaf? How long?! That is mad and is NOT something I had factored in. I’d pictured (in my mind’s eye) a few evenings of hot flushes along with maybe a meltdown or two and that’d be that. No one has ever mentioned years of irrational behaviours ways and bodily reactions. This is why the pill buying became such a priority. I needed them to realign reality with my mind’s eye interpretation of what peri-menopause is.

This isn’t the first time I’ve done this kind of thing, even if it is the first time of having the partial ‘cover’ of being peri-menopausal. Before now, I have purchased so-called homeopathic remedies that are fully natural and can be taken instead of whatever else a doctor might prescribe. Each time, a similar process occurs.

1. I pin all my hopes on the arrival of the natural remedy miracle cure.
2. It arrives and I gleefully take it awaiting the many benefits to become reality.
3. Several days in, I notice side-effects of some kind…or if not side-effects, just ways my own body is reacting to the (turns out, by then) non-miraculous natural remedy.
4. I then re-remember that I am super-sensitive to all medication and can kind of feel what it is doing to me as it does it and that it was never a good idea to take anything at all.
5. I decide I am better off managing whatever it was that I intended the natural, potentially miraculous cure to cure rather than dealing with the effects of whatever it is doing to me and that’s that. Back to metaphorical ‘square 1’ although now with less cash in the bank.

Brilliant, Dawn. No, really. Good work. Honestly. I do my own head in. I’m now (at time of writing) drinking (probably) too much water and interspersing this with eating regular small amounts of chocolate to try to help flush it all out of my system. Is this likely to work? I doubt it. But it’s the process I’ve adopted for today.

Then, this natural Dawn cycle results in the reality that we’re back to, in this case, how to manage whatever it is that happens next within this peri-menopausal phase of life for the late-diagnosed-autist.

I’ll probably keep you posted as we go, but up to this point (just for your information in case you are experiencing anything similar), emotional regulation seems to be a thing of the past, along with patience concerning the ways and behaviours of those nearest to me. Then there’s the sudden heating up of my entire body seemingly because of consuming a cup of relatively warm peppermint tea or even just because I moved too quickly whist breathing out (or was it when I breathed in?). There’s the aching body part in parts of my body I wasn’t ever even sensationally aware I even had before. I mean, I could see those parts in a mirror but wasn’t aware of feeling in them (unless they were being aggravated by a material or a label I’d not yet cut out etc). Plus, there is the weird waking in the night and the inability of sleep beyond this waking, despite whatever levels of tiredness. And my tastebuds seem ‘off’, like someone tampered with them. Weird.

My plan of action for the next few days? Focus on ‘operation move son out’. Yes. I can do that. When that is done, I deal with what to do (or not) about all this physical, mental and emotional hormonal madness whilst hoping I manage to get an interview for my potential career shift which will give me much to occupy my brain that has nothing at all to do with the workings of my body or my ever-changing mum role. Simples. I’m on it. What could possibly go wrong? (That’s most definitely rhetorical and doesn’t even need a whispered response.)