Really?
Back in the stride of her usual rhythm, the woman got out of bed at six with some sense of relief. it had been nice to have a weekend of laying in and she had hoped that it had marked an improvement in her overall sleep pattern. It hadn't. Instead, it had been a blissful blip in her long established pattern of night sweats, toilet trips and 3am anxiety about the modern world mixed in with strange dreams of her past. it had been that way for a long while but once the menopause had hit, sleep had become a whole new entity.
Before her own embodied experience of a female body having a massive transformation whilst having to go along being normal, she had no clue what women had been talking about when they spoke of the 'change'. She'd half listened and if she was honest, mainly dismissed the older women who spoke of their various ailments and aggravations. Now, she was that women and it felt, amongst all the other feelings, just really weird. She would look for signs of disinterest in the young.
It was weird to go to bed feeling ok and then without warning, be completely overheated in the top half of your body. it was weird to wake up from a seemingly normal sleep and be drenched in sweat and have to change ones clothes. It was weird to feel so utterly disinterested in the troubles of the young people when she had always been such an advocate for them. The change definitely changes you she thought. A change so dramatic and so under recognised, it felt strange not to make more of it.
Her body had softened and was starting to spread. just a little because she was still too controlling to entirely let rip with the appetite that could potentially eat its body weight in rich tea biscuits. Her hair was different. No longer a glossy crowning glory, it was leaning towards being a dry, scratchy looking nest that didn't hold the shape that her hairdresser still optimistically aimed for. She was glad she'd starting wearing a hat whilst it still looked cool. now the hat could cover the hair and she could still, with a bit of effort, look as if all was well. which it generally was but the nights were definitely taking their toll.
Why don't we celebrate the menopause more she thought? Is it because what is really taking place feels so uncomfortable that we lose sight of the magic of it along the way? Was there magic in getting older, fatter, balder, less tolerant? she smiled as she thought about asking all of her grumpy friends. Is there magic in menopause?
Perhaps she'd ask her friend who was coming today to collect some of the photos that had been discovered in the loft. She was actually her later wife's previous lover, but because lesbians seem to manage to maintain friendships, they had all managed over the years, to still get on and mix occasionally in the same circles.
Clearing the loft, she had found letters and photos from a life before hers. Pictures of her lover when she was with her previous love. Young, beautiful, carefree.
Groups of friends in their youth who were now middle aged, menopausal and working in all kinds of places and spaces when really, they should all be sitting around together, laughing at the madness of it all and perhaps drinking cocktails whilst the young ones did the leg work. She knew it was a fantasy but she wasn't sure what else there was. The world was too harsh to live without dreams.
She hadn't been sure what to do with the mementoes of a life she had no part of so had been glad to bump into the woman just before Christmas as she was doing a charity shop run with the miscellaneous extras she had found.
They had exchanged pleasantries, updated one another on the essentials of life and it had been a pleasant exchange at the end of a trying year. It had been weird to ask if she wanted the pictures but the ex girlfriend had always been what was described as 'a good woman.' they had agreed that she would come over and today was that day.
The woman looked around her and resolved to finish the loft clearing this week. It was the usual procrastination but it was time for another push through. What else can we do but push on she thought. A tiny voice replied, “well, you could just drink tea and eat cake.” She decided it was just a little too early for that.