So, it’s official! I’m going through Meaniepause (you may know it as Menopause, but I’m not feeling a lot of love toward the process at present, so Meaniepause it is!).

It’s like PMT on steroids. Seriously! I’m so fricken’ moody, it’s not funny (Really, it’s not funny! Are you laughing at me? Why are you laughing at me? You’re so insensitive). I’m an emotional and sensitive person at the best of times, but bloody hell, I’m on the verge of tears constantly, even when I’m dreaming! Someone just has to mention, “Did you see the post on Facebook about the dying Mum who wrote a letter to her kids?” and I’m tearing up, goddamn it! Forget ‘Chick Flicks’ or videos of dogs being rescued – I’m a blubbering mess!

Then there’s the hot flushes, usually in the evening, and frequently when I sleep. Sheets off, sheets on. Leg out, leg in. Get up to wee, go back to bed cold. Ten minutes later, chucking the sheets to the end of the bed, sweatin’. Wake up exhausted, like I’ve done an all night tossing and turning, humphing and hurumphing marathon! There really should be an official marathon on that, I’d be a serious contender…

The flushes sneak up on you. One minute you’re sitting there minding your own business, and the next, you feel a prickly heat rise up your chest and into your face and head. Sometimes the heat is so ferocious, it feels like my head is going to explode and my face is going to launch into the air and stick to the ceiling – it’s intense to say the least!

Hmmmm, what else! Weight sitting on my belly making my clothes uncomfortable, when before it happily sat on my butt and thighs. Aaaahm (Mum, don’t read this bit), sex drive virtually non-existent, and really low energy levels.

My energy levels are affected by a number of things at the moment, and I guess biggest for me is that I just don’t feel like myself at the moment. Who I am and what I want to do with my life and career are all taking a back seat whilst I sit around trying hard not to feel sorry for myself, which is exhausting in itself!

I don’t want to be that exhausted, burnt out, jaded, disappointed menopausal woman whose life doesn’t represent my hopes, dreams, beliefs and passions. I want to be energetic, enthusiastic, motivating and inspirational. So I guess I’m kinda holding a grudge against stupid Meaniepause. I’m not embracing it as part of me. I resent it. It’s a passageway to older-age, to twilight years and, as a brain-washed Society will tell us, to no longer being desirable, useful or beautiful.

But I’m gonna fight it, because I’m working on the belief that we’re all ‘flawed’, perfectly imperfect, made up of light and shade, and that’s okay. Our looks, our shape, our opinions, and our sensitivity do not define us, they are a small part of us. Meaniepause is part of the passage of life for women. A step into the next chapter of my Book of Life, one, I think, that will present some challenges for me.

Physiologically, I believe that if I remove all animal products from my diet (as a vegetarian, I still eat a little cheese and eggs at the moment) as well as alcohol, caffeine and gluten and stick to a plant-based whole real food way of eating, it should help my body deal with the fluctuating hormone levels a little easier. I’ll continue to meditate daily, walk and ride my bike, teach yoga, pilates and aqua classes.

I’ll continue to stick with my tribe of beautiful uplifting women and read/watch self-development/discovery stuff, remember to take the time to fill my own cup, and more importantly, learn to go easy on myself. Times of change can be difficult, especially when they’re things we can’t control, so I need to acknowledge that this will be uncomfortable and frustrating at times, and it’s okay to feel pissed off about it, as long as I don’t let those feelings control me, control who I am and cause me to take my shit out on other people, especially my loved ones.

I want to be one of those humans who shine brightly from the inside, making a difference on the lives of others, so I really need little ol’ Ms Meaniepause to just piss off back to where she came from. (Either that, or we will need to come to some sort of co-habitation agreement.)