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Scaling Mount Menopause – A First Ascent

It’s an arduous journey we menopausal goddesses have embarked upon. Without training, preparation, or a plan. Worse yet, without a choice.

Ascending the menopausal mountain is like climbing our own personal Everest. And like those intrepid Himalayan explorers, we encounter both joy and trauma along the way.

Our menopause adventure is a first ascent. Our own mothers’ journeys were often truncated or arrested at Base Camp Hysterectomy or Camp HRT. We have no guides to show us the way.

There is good news, however. We won’t have to make this climb on our own. With the support and sharing of our sister goddesses, this climb is do-able. Many of us are accompanied by our own Sherpas, our life mates (who have their own special name for the menopausal mountain which roughly translates to something like "Holy crap – what’s happening to my wife?")

Like other peak baggers, we find that our brain doesn’t work as well at these altitudes, we suffer from fatigue, and we are whipped by fierce winds (of change). But we also thrill to the discovery of the new heights and perspectives that accompany standing on the summit of the Second Half of Our Lives.

How does our climb differ most from the Everest adventurers? We’re laughing all the way up!!!

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A Change In The Weather

"Middle-aged women are the people most likely to watch the Weather Channel," my husband read to me from the newspaper. "Isn’t that strange?"
"Not really," I said sheepishly, as if confessing some secret desire. "I think The Weather Channel is interesting."
"Why?", my husband asked, mystified. "You can check the weather you need to know on the internet in a matter of minutes. Why watch it as entertainment?"

After prolonged musing, I think understand why the demographic of The Weather Channel might be women of a certain age. We feel intimately connected to weather. The only thing that is changing as much as we are moment-to-moment IS the weather.
Some of the changes (in weather and in us) are dramatic upheavals – tornados, hurricanes, and the like, turning everything upside down. Other changes occur over time – prolonged heat and drought desiccates and desertifies the land. We can relate to this all too well, as hot flashes singe our individual landscapes and lack of hormonal rainfall leaves us hot, parched, and dry.

Watching the weather is comforting and reassuring for this menopausal woman. While these climactic changes are sometimes uncomfortable and hard to bear, they are NORMAL. The Earth recovers from weather’s onslaughts and new growth appears. A landscape may be trashed for a time, but it ultimately rejuvenates. It may never be as it was before, but it will be fine. And so will we.

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SURVIVOR: MENOPAUSE ISLAND

Some days, I feel like I’m living in a bizarre reality show as I slog through menopause. I can hear the little announcer in my head with the commercial:

Announcing a new season of SURVIVOR – MENOPAUSE ISLAND, the reality TV show where contestants (all female) are forced to participate. This is the most difficult and harrowing SURVIVOR to date. Life altering challenges await participants around the corner of every new day. Flaming ‘flashes’ of heat, palpitations, drenched sheets (and not with passion), dry everything else, lost libido, palpitating hearts, emotional tilt-a-whirls, bone-crushing fatigue, and a host of other horrific hurdles have become part of midlife womens’ daily life. The only way to keep from flipping out during a stay on this hormonally challenged island is to LAUGH and commiserate with our ‘team’ of sister goddesses. (Because the kicker is – you can’t be voted off the show. Even if you desperately wish it.)

SURVIVOR – MENOPAUSE ISLAND – coming soon to each woman near midlife. Stay tuned.

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A Pause Felt ‘Round the World

Menopause is a singularly unifying experience for all women. It transcends social, cultural, economic, language, and other barriers to bring us together in a flash. Literally. Case in point: I climb aboard the Budget van at LAX to ride to the rental car lot. Our driver is a gorgeous fiftyish African-American woman with heroically long fingernails and beaded tresses. She looks really good (for her age.) As I embark, she asks me if the van’s temperature is too cold. In fact, it is nearly arctic – and feels just fabulous to me. Before I can voice my opinion, however, she eyes me critically. "Oh, I don’t need to ask you." she told me in full voice. "I know you understand how it is. I’m hot all the time these days, so I have to check to see if I’m freezing my poor passengers with the A/C cranked up so high."

We bond emotionally, instantly, recognizing each other as fellow changelings. My husband follows me to the front, content to observe our cameraderie. He doesn’t mind the cold; he’s had to live with the human furnace lately. Three other passengers in their 70′s mumble that they are fine and sit in the rear of the bus. She shares immediately, "I could not figure out what was wrong with me! I was hot, sweating all night. It was awful. My mom told me ‘honey, you’re just goin’ through the Change.’ Well, I never expected this! What do you do for it? And how long is it going to go on?" HRT wasn’t an option she wanted to consider, at least not yet. I tell her about natural progesterone cream. "It will save your sanity by letting you sleep." She writes down the recommendation while continuing to drive down Sepulveda Boulevard, seemingly steering with her knees. She roars with laughter when my husband chimed in "It saved MY sanity! I have to live with her." She shows me a cute little fan that she wore on a string around her neck, and I have to get out my pen and notepad. Horror stories are swapped. We discuss clothing and herbs and trade tricks (eg. sticking one’s head in the freezer for a few minutes, during the worst of a flash). Bras? "Can’t wear ‘em no more. Just can’t stand ‘em" she says. I lifted my shirt up high to show my pink cami top, proclaiming "You have to get these – to wear as your bottom layer, so you can strip down and still be decent." "Got ‘em! In every color!", she rejoined.

We are menopausal goddess sisters. Are we different? Sure. She’s a city girl. I live rurally. She works with the public and I am a solitary entrepreneur. She’s African-American and I’m Caucasian. But we are both women going through the biggest life transition we’ve ever encountered. And we can’t help talking to each other about it. We embrace like family at the rental lot admonishing one another to ‘Stay cool’. As we step off the van, the lone woman in the trio at the back smiles and nods at both of us. Her male companions simply look shell-shocked.

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