Menopausal Valentine

Remember when Valentine's Day used to be fun? OK maybe I'll just speak for myself. I still send cliché roses carnations to Madelene at her job, because well, I do love her and also, she and I are both allergic to roses yet send them anyway, because well, we have anger issues. Actually, she's allergic to everything - that girl can sneeze a mile a minute. That's neither here nor there. While I'm very grateful for receiving cards, wine, flowers and all that good romantic stuff that gets washed away by consumption -- (well not the flowers, I have some self-control) -- I'm thankful to just have someone here who truly understands my madness. I use that term loosely. This morning, while having coffee, I said, "Happy Valentine's Day, I'm going through menopause." No, it wasn't a joke. She laughed anyway, and cried just a little. While everyone says I'm "too young" (thank you very much), women who go through menopause under the age of 29 40, are more likely to suffer much more than those who go through it after the age of 50. We're more at risk for osteo-por-favor --- however you spell that -- the shit that makes you shrink to nothing and makes you look like you're ready to ring the bells when you get home. We're also at risk for heart disease at a much earlier age. Oh, did I mention weight gain? Maybe that's just all the wine and chocolate I consume. Nonetheless, it's here. So I have to welcome it with with open arms, a bottle of Ativan & vodka and hope for the best. Since my hormones took a turn for the worse and my hair follicles have been developing in odd places - doctors are trying to help me for my own sanity and well-being. Psychiatrists want to throw antidepressants and gynecologists want to shove estrogen pills down my throat. And I just need a drink.

Don't forget to take your happy pills!
Here's where I'm at... As I said, going through menopause at my age can greatly increase my chances for heart disease...and so can estrogen pills. Okay, I guess I gotta weigh them bad boys out. While being depressed for way too long, my therapist gave me Zoloft...which can increase suicidal thoughts. Wait, what? But let me state this --- I asked for Zoloft because I was over the deep end and I really hit rock bottom. It was my only option. So I started taking 50 mg a day. Holy hell -- you wanna talk about wacky side effects? First, my yawns were literally getting stuck. You can read that last sentence again. I couldn't close my mouth. They even have a term for it called, "yawngasms". Nice, eh? While you're in the thralls of your "yawngasms", your sex drive dwindles down to nothing. Lucky Madelene... I felt like a zombie all day, walking around in a fog. I felt like I was 'not there'. Then one day as Madelene and I were shopping, I dry heaved in public out of nowhere. (Was a sight to see!) People looked at me as my head jerked forward and my cheeks blew up like big balloons. Great, this is really helping my agoraphobia. Thankfully, I didn't get sick - it was just a strange side effect of the meds. As I've always said in my articles, I am SO against antidepressants due to all the chemicals altering your brain, but I was desperate and didn't care. My life was at stake here. It was either that, or a botched up attempt of jumping off a one story ledge, which would require yet another ER visit. I'm sure they miss me.

With all that being said, have a Happy Valentine's Day while I go through Zoloft withdrawals hoping I don't grow another unsightly hair on my chinny chin chin. These visuals are enough to make anyone's sex drive diminish. But now you know what's brewin' in my life. Aren't you glad you visited my blog today? Feel free to send me flowers, chocolates and lots of wine. Enjoy yourself kids!

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