Rages, Reflexology and Emotional Tiredness






I am literally counting the days down to when I can start bringing myself out of menopause. I figured being so hormonal, literally and having a high level, that I would be OK at this stage. This was/is not the case. I wake up opposite a huge mirror and immediately see my fat, spotty, sweaty self and the day starts bad. I have tried to paint my smile on, again literally, but it just is an utter waste of time. So instead for the first time ever, I have become ‘The Quiet’ one. I know right, that is a shock, a turn around, but it has happened.  It is far easier to sit miserably, keep myself to myself and that way people are safe, I am safe and I can try to process things.

The day went fairly smoothly, I was tired, hot, my back was niggling and I was so miserable. No matter how many times I told myself it was my hormones niggling and not my head, I could not snap out of it. So, I plod on with my day, looking forward to my first reflexology treatment in the evening. The day is long, every day is long at the moment, not that I wish time away, but I would just like it to maybe feel less shit, but all for the greater good.

The evening was finally here and off I went to reflexology, apart from my alarm going off on my phone, and me being unable to get to it to turn it off, it was a very relaxing experience and I felt very relaxed, in fact super relaxed and I liked that feeling. I find reflexology incredible, there the wonderful lady was, playing with my feet, whilst telling me she could tell my ovaries were empty which was a good sign that the drugs were going the way the way they should. I felt calm, warm, relaxed and ready for bed. I came away with CD to listen too, and I didn’t get to listen last night but I plan to very soon.   I arrived home to the open arms of The Beard, he is a good man, he really is, he is always there to let me cry on, moan at and really is rather wonderful (and Hairy) I think the support you get throughout this journey is key to maintaining your mind. I have felt so close to jumping into my car, driving, just driving so many times lately, but The Beard and my other wonderful friends, some of what without realising has kept me going, and hopefully will continue to do so. There are some I have been awful too, those know who you are, and for that I apologise, and I know it is no excuse, but it really is because I love you so much that I am so awful, I can’t explain this, but I thank you all for still being there for me, and I hope one day we can look back at all this and laugh about how I was an utter dick!  I done my Jab, which is second nature now, I still wince and it still makes me feel a little sick, but AFTGG right!!!

We cooked dinner, watched Eastender’s blow up, I ran a bath and whilst I was already sweating my ever growing boobs off, I was really looking forward to wallowing in a warm tub of lavender bubbles. Lavender is so hit and miss, it always reminds me of old people, in a fond way. My Grandma and I always made Lavender bags when I was a child, but I find it to overpowering at times and makes me feel rather sick.
I had a lovely visit from an old friend, and she had brought me a mickey mouse note book and pens, I LOVE PENS, I LOVE DISNEY, and in the book, she had wrote a wonderful little message, really made me warm inside, not felt that a lot either recently. People are not all that bad after all.

My bath was lush, I was in bed at 8.40pm and then began the ‘fan on, fan off, fan on, fan off’ palaver and this continued till about 11.30pm.
I am coming to terms with being Quiet. IT IS HARD, and I am constantly advising myself, it is all for the greater good. But I am also, as I said, counting down the days. I really do want to start to feel me again, please?? As I am sure do those close to me.
Off to do a weekly shop this eve, so anyone else planning this, in my area, be warned I will be there, I will be the maniac screaming at the assistant to slow down with the slinging of my shopping. Maybe I should go visit my lovely lady at Asda instead!


A Desperate Mummy To Be. XX

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