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Rated: 18+ · Monologue · Women's · #1080392
just more ranting about menopause
Just decided to write more here.

For 2 months I could not write a thing. Maybe this is a positvie sign, because writing was always MY WAY OUT of pain.

I hate menopause. I hate being a woman. Nobody told me it would be like this. Not my mother. Not my sisters. No books, no magazines, no dumb television shows. Everybody talks about hot flashes like they are the end-all-be-all. I picked up amagazine the other day that had an article on menopause. Yep, all they discussed was hot flashes. Someone just gag me!

All I can say is if you are one of the lucky women who get hot flashes and that's about it, you just well oughtta get down on your knees and thank God that that's the worst of it.

My journey has been a literal jaunt down Insanity Lane. To lose interest the very things in life that gave you life: My son, my writing, my creativity bent. To have it all go down the septic drain (almost literally overnight).

This is hell. I decided to go on hormones because this is a hell that I could not tolerate. Not by any stretch of the imagination.

On top of that I am sure I have become a drug addict and a closet alcoholic. I take ativan, valium and now and then a glass of wine or shot of tequila, because I literally need to be pieled off the ceiling. I'm not ashamed to admit this, because I'm not ashamed to be human and to be human is to know major suckage at all things. Okay, I know I'm being negative and someday my positive bent will return, but for me now, honesty is my therapy.

I saw my doctor last night and he gave me a prescrip so I could sleep at night. (I started crying in his office) Plus he refilled my prescrip for Tafil (a low dose anti-anxiety med) but he warned me only to take it when i absoulutely need it. He KNOWS. He KNOWS I have built up a tolerance.

So goes my story. On a website forum that I cannot name here (because I think it's against the rules) but deals with women going through the woes of menopause, I have found that I am not alone. That so many of us are suffering. That we have to suffer so in silence is an affront to me. There ought to be a magazine that goes all out with the truth. Oh well. I can dream can't I?

What a trip and nothing I would welcome on any other woman.
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