I’ve been in a bit of a weird headspace lately. So forgive me if this ends up being some kind of barely coherent ramble that you only make it halfway through. Assuming, of course, that there’s anyone even looking at this thing after all this time.
Today’s TMI moment: I’m arse-deep in perimenopause. It seemed to sneak up on me, out of nowhere, and honestly I’m wholly unprepared for it. I know that the first inclination for many women is to cheer, “YAY! No more periods!” and while I’ll admit that part is nice, I really don’t feel like it’s worth the trade off in terms of other symptoms. Hello night sweats? You can suck my dick. Kthnxbai.
One thing that’s happened in all of this is that I’ve become acutely aware of my own mortality. Like…terrifyingly aware. The kind of aware of that keeps me awake at night, hearing my heart beating in my ears. There are plenty of days when it’s become an active effort to put those thoughts out of my mind. Left unchecked, I’m fairly certain I could work myself up into a full-blown panic attack. But hey, ain’t nobody got time for that. I don’t know if this is a common middle age thing or not (I’d appreciate anyone who is able to put my mind at ease), but it’s definitely what I’m struggling with lately.
As part of this being-way-too-aware-of-my-own-mortality thing, I’ve been thinking back over my life a lot. Reviewing my mistakes, feeling regret for those times when I wasn’t exactly my best self, wishing that I could hop in a time machine so I could go back and hug my tiny humans when they still were tiny humans. It would be good to be able to fix some of those mistakes, or to re-live some of those wonderful moments that are so far away they don’t even feel real anymore. It’s easy to think we’ve got all the time in the world, but we don’t. It sure would be nice to slow down the clock just a little bit.
Where I am right now in life isn’t where I thought I’d be. I’m not exactly sure what I expected out of life, and I can’t quite put my finger on it, but this isn’t exactly it. Not to say that I’m deeply unhappy and wallowing in misery or anything like that, but there are definitely things that I would like to be different.
But I guess wishing doesn’t really do a whole lot, now does it?


