health and wellness, lifestyle, Menopause, music, Women, writing

Best of days

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August 1st, 2026. My 54th birthday. A day like any other, planned with precision to be exactly that. Booked time off from my two part time jobs. It’s a long weekend in my neck of the woods, and as a birthday present to myself, I added a day or two to the long weekend. I am moving at a snail’s pace, which is odd for me. My family has a running joke. “You complete your to do list by 9am. What are you going to do with the rest of your day?”, so, it’s safe to say, this is not my norm.

The past seven summers have been a blur, between moments that could have changed my life forever, lockdowns, getting Covid for my 50th birthday, job changes, job losses, care taking and losing track of doctor appointments and hospital visits, it’s all become a blur and the past seven years have all melted together into this big memory blob. Who knew I’d be thankful for Facebook memories and Instagram archives, if not for them, I’d have no idea what happened when and where.

I woke up to no alarm, with hot coffee waiting for me. My favorite perfume wrapped and waiting for me, Clinique Happy. The sun pouring through all the windows. Messages from loved ones, texts wishing me the best of days. Those wishes came to fruition, as it was the best of days. Slow and steady, visiting my folks, weekly grocery store run, a walk with my daughter, our favorite dinner and a chocolate McCain cake. I couldn’t have asked for more.

All day yesterday, my mind kept wandering back to this thought, why is it we only wish people the best of days on special occasions, like birthdays, anniversaries and weddings? Don’t get me wrong, being remembered with well wishes on my birthday was wonderful, and I treasure those who took time out of their day to remember me. I keep finding myself going back to my thought yesterday, why do we wait for celebrations to wish those we know to have “the best day ever!”. I think we should offer such well wishes everyday.

Think how wonderful it would be to hear “Hope today is your best day ever!” on a Monday as you’re about to present a new idea to your boss. “May all your wishes come true today!” as you’re wheeling a loved one to another appointment at the hospital. “Make a wish!” as your strolling through a park looking up at the trees swaying in the breeze. How wonderful to hear your phone ring and to hear “Wanted to call quick and wish you a wonderful day! Love you!” on a Wednesday afternoon, just because.

The world lost a beautiful soul last week. Glen Hansard. I’ve been listening to his music on repeat. At first it made me cry. Now it fills me with hope. I can’t explain it, it just does. Listening to his music, I find myself remembering myself – a journey I’ve been on a while now. Maybe it’s my age, maybe it’s the state of the world, maybe it’s menopause, our 50’s are weird. I find myself returning to myself, the me who I was before the world got at me. The me who celebrated everything, for everyone, from birthdays to conquering a new recipe or facing a fear as big as a career change to as small as climbing to the top of a ladder. Something in me always wanted to make people feel seen, to stand up to the bully, to celebrate any and all accomplishments. Not every day can be the best of days, but I do believe as a child believes in fairies, that we can make at least one moment of everyday the best of days for ourselves and for others. Holding the door. Smiling as you walk by another. An “You’re Awesome!” gif sent to a friend. A memory sent to remind others of a great time. An iced coffee that’s the perfect color – if you know, you know.

As I type this, it’s raining outside. The kind of rain that makes you want to stay home with a cup of tea, a cozy blanket and a good book. It’s like Mother Nature got my memo about slowing down. I’m wearing my birthday present. Clinique Happy. A scent I adore and gave up in my 30’s for a reason I cannot fathom. Fresh Lemonade on my desk as I write. My wordsmith playlist playing. A cardinal landing beside my window for the flash of a second – hi Gramma. The best of days. I wish the same for you.

communication, health and wellness, lifestyle, Menopause, That girl in the red coat, Women, writing

Dream Weaver

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Have you ever woken up from a dream feeling full of love and empty at the same time? That’s how I woke up this morning. It was an odd night. At 3 a.m. I woke to a sound that sounded like a mixture of tapping and dripping. There was a thunderstorm raging and my first thought was ” Great! A leak in the roof.”. The sound began above my head, then began to travel across the ceiling towards the window, then it stopped. I peeked under the blind, it was still raining outside, yet the sound stopped. Weird. I got back into bed, silenced my mind by repeating “No words. Sleep” silently to myself. – side note – try it, it works. Before I knew it, I was back to sleep and in my Gramma Leah’s house. She lost her sight at the end of her life, so it wasn’t a surprise to me that she was reading braille. I asked what she was reading. She told me “my prayers for you.”, then asked to take my arm and we walked through her front door, smiling and giggling with each other. The sun hitting our faces as I heard the tune of my alarm and then I woke up. I woke up smiling, then I remembered she’s gone. It’s been almost 20 years and here I am crying as I write.

Grief never leaves us, we just become bigger than our grief, or at least, that’s what I think. My tears have become more of a release than those of despair. I feel lighter as I cry, like I’m letting my Gramma know I feel her. I’d like to think the sound that woke me up at 3 a.m. was her, trying to get my attention and that she visited me in my dreams to make sure she was getting through to me. Letting me know I am being watched over, and that I am surrounded by light, even if I can’t always see it. That connection and love never ends.

The point of today’s tale you ask? To remind you we are more the same than we are different. We all feel grief, fear, anxiety, you name it. To give you permission to feel what it is you need to feel. Many of us feel we are not deserving of feeling our pain because “others have it worse” – I call bullshit. Pain is pain. Trauma is trauma and needs to be respected as such. For yours truly, the past 6 years, every Spring/Summer season has brought either angst, pain, illness, recovery and being pulled in what felt like 10 different directions and still there were dishes to be done, family to be fed and laundry to be folded. This year, knock wood, my Spring /Summer season has been calm, and with the calm, has brought up my angst and my shoulders along with it. My mind knows everything is okay, my body is suiting up. I have to keep reminding myself that this is not then, this is now. Everything worked out. Everything happened as it should. I’m still standing. I literally just had to put my shoulders down – you should too.

As I’m writing this, I realized I’m entering a seventh year. There are theories that our bodies change every 7 years, that we are a new person at a cellular level. I’m not a scientist or an M.D., but I do like the sound of that. I have been feeling a shift as of late. I’m noticing more moments of levity, finding myself smiling as I’m doing ordinary things like driving, doing the dishes. I find myself humming or doing a little dance as I’m ironing – yes, I still iron – nothing better than a crisp linen. Some may say it’s my HRT kicking in. Some may say it’s the work I’ve been doing on myself. Those sentiments may be true. I’d like to think that my Gramma Leah’s prayers for me have something to do with it.

My Gramma Leah could crochet, knit and cross stitch the most beautiful creations. Who knew? She is also a dream weaver.

communication, health and wellness, lifestyle, That girl in the red coat, Uncategorized, Women, writing

Once in a blue moon

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For anyone on any social media platform, you are well aware that yesterday was a blue full moon. I’m not usually someone who directs their life and decisions by my astrological sign and horoscope – unless it’s good news, then I’m all for it. That being said, something happened yesterday.

It was a usual slow and easy Sunday morning and I was lounging in my favorite chair. I looked over at my hubby with his bedhead – still cute after 32 years and said “I think I’ll go for a walk today or do something new, I need more whimsy in my life.”. Whimsy. Not a word I usually use, I think I’ve said it twice in my life. Yesterday, and when I framed our new thermostat with a vintage frame because it was a cute idea and also covered up the hole left by the old thermostat cover – two birds my friends, two birds. Back to the tale at hand. Hubby says he’ll come with me. We start to get ourselves together to venture out, I check my Insta as I’m waiting and there it was. A post about the effect of the blue moon for Leo’s – brings attention to joy, creativity and whimsy. Whimsy. Ok universe, message received.

My Sunday afternoon consisted of blue skies, cool breezes, sunlight, laughing with my hubby, and venturing into new stores looking for a new chair for me at my writing desk. I’ve been sitting on a circa 1930’s chair and quite frankly, my 50 year old ass can’t take it anymore. So, after 13 years, I decided it was time. What is it about us as women that we put ourselves, and as it so happens, our asses last? Another tale for another time. Anywho, I found a chair at a local business – support local when you can my friends. It swivels, it’s on wheels, it has arm rests. It doesn’t look like an office chair. It’s perfect. … and it was on sale which is even better – I love a good deal. We got home, set it up, retired the old chair to it’s original home, if front of the antique fold down desk. I spun around in my new chair a few times, looked out the window, heard the garden calling my name, grabbed my ear pods, and ventured outside.

I found myself humming along and almost dancing to the 90’s country tunes playing in my ear as I cut down the overgrowth of last year. As I stood back to appreciate my efforts, a random playlist brought me a moment of joy. Dwight Yoakam’s “Turn it on, Turn it up, Turn me loose” started to play. What’s the big deal? Well, let me tell you. The year was 1992, I had just moved in with my boyfriend – now husband. I woke up to him smiling at me, telling me to get dressed. He was taking me to Toronto to go shopping. He had $400 to spend. Just so you will know, and one day you’re children will know, $400 in 1992 was ALOT of money – hell, it is today, but I digress. After a day of following me around to all the shops, I spotted a record store. I had heard Dwight Yoakam’s music and loved it. I found his latest cassette tape, “If there was a way” – yes, I said cassette tape – Gen X here people. I looked at soon to be hubby and he smiled and took it to the counter. I listened to “Turn it on, Turn it up, Turn me loose” on repeat the whole 2 hour drive home, with a driver who hated country music. Yep. He isn’t a fan of the ol’ country twang, but he knew I loved it and wanted me to have what I wanted. Joy. Whimsy. Hmmm – even the title of the album, “If there was a way”, kind of ties this all together with a cute little bow, doesn’t it?

The point of today’s tale? Don’t let the fuckers get you down. Find your whimsy. We are being bombarded every damn day with horrific news, opinions being disguised as facts, AI telling us what’s “real”, disgusting behavior from world leaders – yeah sure, the picture was him as a doctor, not Jesus – if you know, you know.

We can’t control any of the above. We can control what we do, what we say, what we create. Be it a garden, watching the birds out your kitchen window, listening to music that fills your soul with joy, or spinning in an office chair.

beauty, health and wellness, lifestyle, Women

Shameless

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shameless – adjective – Feeling no shame, impervious to disgrace

I was scrolling my Instagram last week – no TikTok here – I’d never leave the sofa – I know this about myself – lets be honest, I was scrolling my Insta everyday last week – hence no TikTok, and by days end, I found myself bouncing between feeling dumb to feeling inadequate to feeling left behind. I’m entering the final months of my 53rd year on this earthly realm and I’m done feeling this way. Seriously, I have been feeling this way as long as I can remember. Some days it’s for a minute or two, some days, it lasts all day and seeps into the next.

We are bombarded every day, all day, with these ugly opinions cleverly disguised as facts on all social media platforms and internet ads, and don’t get me started on the AI fashion/skin care models. Even podcasts and podcast hosts telling us because we don’t drink enough greens that is the reason our life is falling apart and not using AI in your everyday life and everyday tasks will leave you alone floating on an ice flow. Oh, and protein…for the love of God, stop offering me protein. I’ve heard “You gotta try this protein powder” in my 50’s more than “You want a toke” in my teens. Ugh, and ease up on the “do you lift bro?” rhetoric. Yes, being reminded lifting is important to my aging bone health is great, I don’t need to be reminded that I’ll be the “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up” lady if I don’t do it everyday.

Here’s the thing I’ve come to realize – most of this shame is not mine. It’s what I think I’m supposed to feel shame about. Shame for being a stay at home Mom. Shame for going back to work. Shame for being too much. Shame for not being enough. Shame for cellulite. Shame for being too strong. Shame for being weak. Well, as I like to say, Fuck. That. Shit.

I’ve got a theory about this shame business. It may seem far fetched and if that’s what it sounds like to you, that’s fine by me, it’s just my theory/opinion. If we are all feeling shame about bodies, our lack of protein and exercise regimes, we’re focusing on those things, not world events, political decisions, what the Cheeto on Pennsylvania Avenue is up to – like I said, just an opinion.

Here’s the deal. You know that saying “before you think you’re depressed, take a look around to be sure you’re not surrounded by assholes”, I’ve got a new one for you. When the shame seeps in, look up from your phone, take a good around, and ask yourself “Who’s trying to sell me something by making me feel like failure?”. To be clear, I’m all for entrepreneurship and building a platform, side hustle or business. I do believe it can be done without the shame.

Be shameless Beauties. You’re doing the best you can today and that’s enough. Plain and simple.

… Oh, and the protein and weights will still be there tomorrow. Trust me, someone will let you know.

communication, health and wellness, Women

Price of admission

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“Discomfort is the price of admission for a good life.”

I came across this quote, I don’t remember where or said by whom. All I know is that it stopped me in my tracks. I found myself thinking of all those who came before me and paid their price of discomfort. In Canada, my great grandmother waiting until 1955 to take her grand daughters to the library to get their library card – the first time a girl or a woman could get a library card without her father’s or husband’s signature. 1955. Women going to the doctor in 1969 – when birth control was decriminalized. 1969. Women walking into a bank in 1974 to get their own credit card, without needing their father’s or husband’s signature. 1974. Two years after I was born.

It got me thinking of what price am I paying? I’ll be 54 this year. In my life, I’ve always been able to vote, have my own bank account, my own credit, my own car. I’ve had the choice to be a mother. I’ve had the choice to work. All because of the discomfort of those who went before me.

I like to believe it’s partly because of them that I speak my mind. Not only because they made sure my voice could be heard, but that they are always with me, surrounding me when my voice starts to shake when I speak my mind. That they were with me when my grade 5 gym teacher said girl’s couldn’t hit a ball that was pitched to them and needed a t-ball stand, to which I kicked it over and shouted “Pitch it!” and as God is my witness, I hit a homerun – they were with me. They were with me when my grade 10 science teacher told me that it was okay that I didn’t understand the experiment because “I was a girl and girl’s don’t need to understand science.” to which I shouted “I need to go to the office and call my parents about what you just said”. – needless to say, I didn’t call my parents, he looked like he shit his pants after I said that – they were there. When I sold cars and a man asked me to sit in his lap on the test drive (happened more than once) and I looked him square in the eye and said “let’s call your wife to see if it’s okay with her” – they were there.

It’s our time to be there for women. All ages. All countries. We’re at a tipping point. Yes, women are making strides on a global scale, in sports, in government, in finance – take your pick, we are rockin’ it. Yet, it’s 2026 and I still walk to my car with my keys between my fingers. At least once a week a man is surprised that I know, well, anything other than how to remove a stain and make a casserole. At least once a week I meet a man who has no problem with, Roe vs Wade getting overturned or the Voting Acts being rescinded. For Christ’s sake, The White House had a press conference for Dr. Oz to tell us that women in the U.S. are “under babied” – a fine example of a man who’s never been told to shut the fuck up. My great grandmother was a fine lady and she would agree with my sentiment.

It’s time, as John Lewis said, to make some good trouble. It’s time for a little discomfort. We need to be there for each other as our mothers, aunts, and grandmothers were there for us.

health and wellness, lifestyle, Menopause, That girl in the red coat, Women

Life Preserver

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I don’t know about you all, I feel like I have been bouncing between treading water to just keeping my head above water. Between the news, the world events, menopause, being a member of the sandwich generation, the patriarchy and fascism rearing it’s ugly head, it is easy to feel like we are drowning. I’m sure you’ve noticed I haven’t written in a while. There are many reasons, mostly because whenever I sat to write I was either overcome with “who gives a shit” or I would just type the word “Fuck” over and over.

Last week I had a meltdown. My poor husband getting to be the soul audience member of my snot nosed, ugly cry temper tantrum/fit/ stomp fest 2026. He sat quietly, let me say what I needed to say ( thanks to 30+ years of marriage, he now knows just to let me go and I will return to myself, I just need a minute.). He asked me if talking to someone would help. I admitted I’d thought about it, therapy saved my spirit in my teens, truly. Then I said something out loud that I’d only been thinking. “I think I need to start writing again.” . So here we are my beauties.

Also, thank you to all who have been continuing to read my past words, somedays this little blog of mine gets 100 views. When I shared this news with certain people who I now know may not be my people, they said that the views are bots or AI reading my words. I realized that I was allowing their words to feed the wrong wolf. I started this blog to help myself and others feel better about themselves, how to use their hair products. It began to morph into something else at the same time. A how to be kind, or not to be an asshole – take your pick. Most of my past posts that have been getting attention as of late are those exact ones – about kindness, about hope, about how not to be an asshole.

So, this little blog of mine is slowly getting a revamp. A life preserver for yours truly and in turn for you, that is my hope. I believe truth is beautiful, and taking the time to tell those you care about when they are awesome and when their assholery is showing. There is still so much good in the world, yet we are bombarded with the ugly. “Look for the helpers” – I’m going to try to take a page from Mr. Rogers play book – although my language is more like Mr. Robinsons – those of us over 40 will get the SNL reference.

Know this. It’s okay to want to scream into the void. It’s okay to be looking around wondering what the actual fuck is happening. It is okay to weep for the world, for the loss of human rights, the overturn of Roe vs Wade, the corruption of government. It is okay to feel rage because this is not the world we wanted for our children – seriously, I apologize to my daughter at least once a week for the state of the world – another tale for another time. It is okay to get down – it is not okay to let those bastards keep you down. The ways we slowly get back up? Give to your local food bank. Check in on your neighbours. Feed the birds. Get outside and stare at the clouds. Share the good news with the not so good. Laugh. Laugh. Laugh. Be silly. Rest.

We truly are in this together. It’s one world. Lets keep each other afloat.

communication, health and wellness, lifestyle, Menopause, parenting, Uncategorized, Women, writing

Chapters

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It’s been hot minute since I last posted, literally. This past summer has been one of the hottest on record and not just because of menopause. Mother Nature must be in her 50’s this go around for it’s 30 degrees Celsius (that’s HOT for my American readers) on the 5th of October. With the change of season, on the calendar at least, I find myself pondering change. These past years have seen more changes for yours truly than my mood before doing some hard internal work and getting some good ol’ hormones. While pondering all the changes, I came across a quote that hit the mark – “Don’t judge me based on the chapter of my life you arrived in.”.

I celebrated my 53rd birthday in this earthly realm this past August. I celebrated with my mother, at a local grocery store, as I was her wheels for most of the summer as my father recovered from open heart surgery. Mom even joked “Isn’t this better than some party?”. Actually, it kind of was. Dad’s heart wasn’t in the best shape and it was a 6 hour surgery with 14 hours on a ventilator and a 2 week hospital stay. Knowing my 53rd birthday very well could have been one person short, I was quite content to be at a grocery store with my momma on my birthday and arriving at their front porch to see Dad smiling as I brought in the groceries.

These past months I’ve found myself looking at strangers wondering what chapter they are in. Are they beginning one? At the end of one? In the thick of one? I find myself being more patient – those who know me well have just fell off their chairs. Recovering from heart surgery is not for the faint of heart – pun intended. Everyday I kept having the same thought – what do people do who are on their own? I found myself wanting to scoop up all the lone patients and bring them home like some kind of stray puppy. Yes – I realize – kind of co-dependent – I’m working on it. Wondering if one could be co-dependent with the Universe? You found your girl, well, at least I used to be your girl, slowly closing that chapter and trying to begin the next one. Back to the tale at hand. While passing the patients, the families, the hospital staff, I found myself wondering who they were? What was their day like? Were they scared? Were they at peace? Which chapter was this for them? Was it their last? Are they wondering the same thing about me? I found myself hoping they were, because if they’re wondering about others, there is hope for us all after all.

If this past chapter has taught me anything it’s this, we have no say, no control of anything except ourselves, there’s been a few days I’ve forgotten that. Also, you cannot rewrite or edit yourself into or out of anyone else’s chapter, no matter how hard you try – trust me, I know of what I speak. Being a recovering co-dependent menopausal GenXer is such fun.

I’m not even going to go into what’s happening in the world. We are all very well aware and that is another chapter for another day. That being said, taking a moment to remind yourself that the chapter you are arriving in may not be the best chapter to judge others right now may be the best thing you can do for yourself and others.

communication, lifestyle, parenting, Sunday Confessions, writing

Sunday Confessions

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Here we are again, Sunday morning. I’ve felt a tug, a yearning for months now. Whenever it’s quiet, or I’ve slowed down for a minute, it’s there. A voice? A knowing? A nudge? Some call it your knowing. Everyday, at least once a day, it’s there. As I was mixing my instant caramel iced coffee this morning, …my latest obsession, thank you Maxwell House, I stopped stirring and listened to my knowing. Write. That’s all it said. That’s all I felt, that’s all I heard. So beauties, here I am, writing. Fitting it’s a Sunday, because this gal has some confessing to do.

I’ve had this blog for over 12 years. I used to write everyday. Then I stopped. I would say it was because of the shop closing, job changes, life stresses, you name it, I would use any and all reasons as an excuse for why I wasn’t writing. It’s all bullshit. It is. I stopped writing because I stopped writing. No one else to blame – easy to do, but not the truth. I’ve come to realize I was playing the blame game. Blaming job changes, job losses, family struggles for the reason why I couldn’t write. I stopped writing because I chose to. I stopped writing because I listened to the naysayers. There was a time I wrote about speaking your truth and being your own beautiful, and there I was not practicing what I preached. Well, fuck that shit.

It’s been a time for us all. These last 5 years have melted together, time doesn’t seem real some days. The past 2 years have been a journey for yours truly. It began in October of 2023, when I was fired from a job I was recruited for. Long story short – I wouldn’t accept corporate funds to my personal account – a tale for another time. They say things happen for a reason, and usually my response to that is with my middle finger, but it worked out. I was able to be home to help my family. Hubby had emergency cataract surgery, both my parents had some health issues, I was able to be home for my child who is in need of support. My hubby is out of the house at least 12 hours a day, so I was home for home repairs, like ridding our home of mice – I wanted to live near the river didn’t I? Shout out to Ontario Wildlife Removal – humane treatments and no more mice. I also had time to slow down and complete a thought, which isn’t always as great as one would think. I had time to look at my part and my actions, or non actions for that matter, in my life – and anyone who knows me knows how much I LOVE admitting a short coming or realizing where I’ve screwed up. My child has had many a knock on their door from me just to hear me say “I have another thing to apologize for” upon opening their door. If I can offer any advice on parenting, it’s this. Listen to your kids and apologize to them. It doesn’t matter how you feel about what they are saying, trust me, it can really suck. As parents, we have to acknowledge our kids feelings and recollections of what transpired. There will be time later to excavate the past, but the dig cannot begin until you let them talk, and I’ll say it again, it can really suck, BUT! the connection after is so worth it. All that to say, yes, I was “busy”, but still wasn’t writing, still making excuses why I couldn’t, still not listening to my knowing.

Tomorrow my father goes in for heart surgery. He is in good health, his ol’ ticker needs some help, which he will be receiving tomorrow, triple by pass and valve repair – and because we’re in Canada, all we have to worry about is paying for parking and my Dad’s recovery. Over the past few days, many dear friends have been struggling, aging parents, loss of a child, divorce. Maybe that’s why I decided to listen to my knowing today. Maybe today’s tale will make someone smile, feel seen, feel less alone. I know I feel less alone when I write. I feel the hug of my Gramma Leah when I write, I feel as though her hands are on my shoulders and she’s looking over my shoulder waiting to see what words will appear next. (I do know she isn’t fond of my curse words.). I can’t explain it, nor do I wish to. It’s magical.

Listen to your knowing. I know it’s scary, trust me. I know it seems easier to push it away. It’s telling you who you are, what will help you, where the answers you’re looking for are. It’s your magic waiting for you to be magical.

health and wellness, lifestyle, Menopause, That girl in the red coat, Women

Taking a pause? *Update*

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Disclaimer * I am not a medical doctor, nor an expert. I’m a woman sharing her story in hopes of helping myself and others. Always educate yourself and speak with your doctor or medical professional

I have an update y’all! It’s been 12 days since my post about the lovely and oh so exciting symptoms of menopause. Since we last met, I have had my follow up with my Doctor, and let me say, this appointment went much better than the first. As I’ve told you, my initial appointment left me feeling unheard, unseen and, well, stupid. I felt a little gaslit to be honest. I asked for, then fought for my bloodwork. I headed over to the lab the minute I left her office, with my bloodwork requisition in hand, along with a mental health questionnaire sponsored by Pfizer (I shit you not, their logo was on the page), that my Doctor wanted me to fill out since I had told her I felt overwhelmed and my get up and go seemed to have gotten up and went. Let me tell you, waiting for my follow up appointment messed me up. How could I not be anxious about my follow up when my initial appointment went so well, and when I saw my estrogen levels weren’t on the bloodwork results. I’m telling you, thank goodness I’ve been healing and dealing this year, because a few years ago, I may have given up on all of this entirely.

So I arrive for my follow up, my little Pfizer packet in hand. I get in the office, hand over my filled out questionnaire to my doctor and take my seat. Being me, I had to speak first. I told her that I had completed the forms as requested and felt a little unheard in my last appointment and didn’t think I was depressed. To my delight and surprise she agreed, (did she read my blog?), and told me that she wanted me to fill out the forms for her own sake, that she knew I wasn’t depressed. She wanted my perspective from outside of the office. She brought up the fact my estrogen levels weren’t taken before I could ask about it. Her opinion was that of, I am 52, I had a hysterectomy (partial) 15 years ago, and from all the other bloodwork, all the results and my described symptoms, hormones were the culprit. She asked me what course of action I wanted to take, as we had discussed them last time. I told her I thought estrogen was my answer, that I wasn’t comfortable with NSRI’s. I know they can help women with the symptoms of menopause such as night sweats, brain fog, etc… . My concern is that is putting a band aid on a gaping wound. What I mean by that is, getting rid of the symptoms may help me sleep better and be more aware during the day, but what about my brain health? My bone health? My cardio health? (I know, I know, I smoke. I have cut down and am actually exercising again… yippee). As women, we need estrogen in our bodies and not just for procreation, thank you patriarchy. Estrogen is a key component in our endocrine system, so, it’s kind of important. FYI – one of the over 80 symptoms of menopause is elevated cholesterol. I left the office feeling heard, feeling seen and my low dose estrogen prescription in hand. We have a 6 week follow up booked to see how I’m feeling and a 6 month full work up booked as well.

I understand HRT (hormone replacement therapy) is scary for most of us to even think about. Mostly because of misinformation and skewed findings in the 1980’s/1990’s – look it up. HRT is not the same for every woman, nor is it for every woman, depending on your history, if you’ve had a hysterectomy or partial as I have had. I do have family history of ovarian and breast cancer, low risk, but still a risk, hence the follow ups with my Doctor. Fast forward to today. I’ve been taking my estrogen for 10 days, I’m sleeping better, I feel more aware and my shoulder pain that was at 90% for over 2 years is at maybe 10% to nonexistent. * Another fun fact – frozen shoulder can be a symptom of menopause. Yes. It’s early days, and maybe it’s all in my head – but isn’t everything? I honestly don’t think it’s in my head, typing that I realized that’s just programming, that as women we are trained to doubt ourselves. Well fuck that shit.

Here’s the deal. Be your own advocate. Listen to yourself. If you feel something is off, it usually is. This is the first time in, well forever, that menopause is being spoken of and actually beginning to get the attention it needs and is deserving of. It is nothing to embarrassed or ashamed of. It’s a natural progression of life, what is not natural is to have to suffer or to have ill health as we age.

Since I began blogging over 12 years ago, I have always professed kindness. To be kind to others, when and if you can. That when you know better, you do better. Well Beauties, today I’m reminding you that being kind to yourself is just as important, hell, it’s of the upmost importance. Taking care of your medical, spiritual, mental and physical health is the kindest thing you can do.

beauty, health and wellness, lifestyle, Menopause, Women

Taking a pause?

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It’s been a minute. My last post was almost 9 months ago to the day – and NO! I did not have a baby or was I pregnant, and NO! my 27 year old did not have a baby, so no gramma over here either. Funny how the mind equates 9 months with pregnancy/babies. I’ve been on the fence about writing again, and today, I thought, screw it, so here I am. I did not plan on writing today, and I find it quite funny that this post lands almost 9 months to the day of my last post and I’m about to talk about menopause. Well played universe, well played.

To be clear, I am not an expert, nor am I an M.D.. I am however a woman dealing with the lovely and oh so wonderous effects of menopause. It’s been super fun as I had a partial hysterectomy (still have the ol’ ovaries) 15 years ago, so I don’t have the early warning system of my cycle ending. I do believe I may have jinxed myself as I would proudly profess how I had no ill effects of such an early hysterectomy. Once again, the universe has a sense of humor. Over the past year I’ve had an array of adventures from insomnia, mood swings that would put a teenager to shame, weight gain from looking at a cookie, brain fog, forgetting what I was, what was I gonna write? (you gotta laugh), forgetting what seemed like everything, but not all the time, oh and my all time favorite night sweats that are so bad I thought I pissed the bed, yes, I said pissed the bed, keeping it real. I realized after one fun night of three night sweat episodes that it was time to make myself a priority. I had put everyone else’s needs in higher priority than my own. Loved ones facing physical and mental health issues, aging parents, job loss – a story for another time, I kept telling myself “it’ll pass.”. It didn’t and it hasn’t.

So I called my Doctor. When I arrived at my appointment I told her how I’d been feeling, the night sweats etc…, and that I didn’t have the get up and go that I normally have. I admitted I hadn’t been exercising as I should and that yes, I still smoke. I know, I know! I am quitting. I have cut down the amount I smoke by half and am planning to be done with it by the end of the month. I don’t drink, I don’t do drugs, I don’t gamble – give this menopausal woman something. Back to my appointment. I asked my doctor for a total blood work up, it’s been 2 years since my last one, to check my thyroid levels since I am dependent on medication due to my thyroidectomy. Also to check my hormones. She looked at me and said “Your hysterectomy was quite a while ago, with no issues.”, to which I told her, “well there’s a subscription to the issues now.”. Reminded her I still have my ovaries and the family history of ovarian cancer and early hysterectomies. She began to tell me options, such as hormone replacements and the various types and then added that the body ages and in the past women just dealt with it and the body adapted. Pardon me? What was that? Just as I had finished looking around her office for a caveman to pop out from the corner, I was offered another alternative! Anti depressants! Because you know, “many women find it helpful when they feel overwhelmed with everything.”. Once my head stopped spinning I told her no thank you, to which I was told “they are not addictive”. After asking about the side effects and almost spun into that web, I once again said no and told her I would like the bloodwork done first and to see where all my levels were at, including my hormone levels. Spoiler alert! My hormone levels weren’t on the bloodwork requisition. I have a follow up appointment this week, so I’m gonna try this again.

*to be clear, I have no issues with anti depressants. They have helped many who I hold near and dear. I do have issues with them being given out like Pez from a Pez dispenser.

So, why tell you about this? Selfishly to help myself, and also to hopefully help someone else. That someone will see their story in mine. If you’re between 35 – 55, hormones are our friends and our foes. To remind you and me to speak up, to advocate for ourselves. That it is just fine to question your doctor, and that you are not crazy! Our hormones are needed for brain health and mental and physical health. I highly recommend Dr. Mary Claire Haver MD. You can find her on Instagram and all socials.

I’m not sure where all this is going to lead, I do know knowledge is power and it’s up to us to embrace our power, plain and simple.