Y’all, I have spent my entire life unbothered.
Unhinged? Absolutely. But unbothered. For decades, I possessed the elite ability to coast along in one steady emotion, one predictable mood, completely and beautifully unconcerned about pretty much anything. I had my lane, I stayed in it, and life was extra but always a good vibe.
And then I turned 40.
For the last year, I’ve basically just laughed at the word perimenopause. Honestly, it felt fake. It also felt incredibly rude. You are telling me that after surviving decades of monthly periods and managing birth control my entire adult life, I now have to transition into a pre-menopause holding pen just to prepare my body for the actual menopause? Who authorized this blueprint? It feels like getting a pre-bill for a bill you already paid.
Thankfully, I haven’t had a lot of the standard physical symptoms people warn you about. No sudden internal combustion or middle-of-the-night sweat sessions. But the emotional side?
Go ahead and check every single box on the list.
Annoyed? Permanently.
Irritated? By breathing, mostly. And any time my husband doesn’t immediately tell me I’m perfect and gorgeous.
Forgetful? I can’t remember what I came into this room for, but I’m mad about it.
Crying? At least once every other month, usually at a minor inconvenience.
Tired? Deeply, in my soul. All the time.
My lifelong streak of being completely unflappable has officially been hijacked by my hormones. If you’re currently sitting in this same boat, wondering where your inner zen went and why everything is suddenly a little bit irritating welcome to the club. Where do we resign membership?