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It’s the Final Countdown (to 365, baby)

Perimenopause can suck it. 

For real. I cannot be physically AND emotionally tired all the time. That just lacks practicality. 

And the hot flashes, blood flowing through my body like molten lava. So cliché. And distracting as hell. 

I sleep just fine. As long as I ingest a couple teaspoons of magnesium before bed. If not, all bets are off.

It’s a weird stage of life. Not that my fertility ever won any awards for showing up when I needed it to. But my reproductive system did pull itself together to bring one (practically) perfect (for me) child into this world. So, I’m grateful. Really I am.

But I haven’t bled in months (except for splotches of pink here and there, without uniformity) since July 4th. I just want to get on with this whole thing. 365 days, no blood = the magical menopause number. 

I suppose we’ll just wait around and see. 

The subtle (sometimes cataclysmic) shifting of getting older is strange. Sometimes my body feels alien, unpredictable. 

I’m making peace with the flux, in all its strange and varied manifestations. (But also: suck it, perimenopause)

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