Menopausal Rage : It is totally a thing
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I have a real-life friend. She is generous, kind and on the other side of town. She has been travelling the globe being all amazing for a few years and came back not quite the same. No, she wasn’t sporting a burka or a new boyfriend, she was sporting an attitude that only a 16-year-old girl could stand toe-to-toe with. She claims ‘menopause’ is making her ragey. I am suspicious. I will take her at her word because along with being one of my favourite people, she is also the person I fear the most in this world. This rage thing is not really new as it is, well, constant. She once raged on a doctor who she was hoping to see for her stress induced rage because the doctor ran late. He remembered he wasn’t accepting patients.
All of this is exactly why I love her. I’m pretty sure her middle finger is also her favourite. We could be twins separated at birth but she got to be younger so that wasn’t fair and she doesn’t like coffee so we can’t be identical. I’m pretty sure I would have resented her all my life but loved her anyway.
So yeah, when she asked if she could post this here to get it off her mighty ample chest (hear the resentment?), I said, “Yes, Please!” in all sincerity and not because I feared her wrath (winky face).
I present my very first guest blogger, Ragey McRagester**. Please make her feel loved like you do for me.
**This may or may not be a tragic real name or a cleverly disguised pseudonym.
Menopausal Rage [men-uh–paw-zuh l reyj] : It is totally a thing
This will read like a confession but I have secretly suffered from menopausal rage for a few months now and by secret, I mean only everyone who has ever met me are wise to it. It is sort of hard to hide – like a stretch of toilet paper tucked into the top of your skirt. I knew that there were harsh symptoms to menopause because my friend had them affect her daily life so much she went to a gynecologist (http://www.gyngeorgia.com/) to help manage them, but I had no idea that rage was a symptom of it.
I am feeling the need to provide a little context here. Let’s say you are a mum, I don’t know, in your mid-forties. You don’t look mid-forties though, maybe mid-thirties – super fit and fun and thoroughly modern. Everyone tells you so.
Anyway, mid-forties for context and you have to pick your daughter up at school. Let’s say pick up is a fucking disaster – rules of traffic and decent human conduct out the proverbial car window. You are waiting and waiting and waiting some more. You text, I don’t know, let’s say your other daughter who is walking home with a friend because the first daughter forgot her phone at home so you have no means by which to reach her to let her know to hustle up her ass. No response from other daughter as she is on airplane mode, respecting her data plan. PHARK. Why do they choose to listen to me…I mean you….now?!?
First daughter calls from the school office inquiring as to your whereabouts. And you begin to froth. Not a little. Full on “punch whoever I see next” froth. You wonder why you didn’t opt for the mini at this point as your SUV is constantly in someone’s way, including your own. You circle around. Again.
Are you feeling this? Yeah. And there you have menopausal rage. It is a shifty beast as unlike other types of rage – all of which I am intimately familiar – it sneaks up on you. You are fine, talking yourself down, no big deal, this too shall pass like the 30 minutes I have spent waiting at the front of the school. And then out of nowhere, boom. You. Completely. Lose. Your. Shit…like a purse emptied on the sidewalk with crap, including tampons, rolling into the street and you can’t possibly collect it all so you throw the purse at a moving car. Yeah. Like that.
The reality is that the rage is quick and sharp, ironically a bit like really early labour. And once it has passed you can shake it off and find that high road. But in the thick of it, mama needs a plan:
The most effective method to confront and control menopausal rage is to just close life right down. Don’t leave the house or interact. With anyone. Not by phone or by text. Not even Morse Code. And best to organize solo accommodations too as family seems to be the ignition button most of the time. Although some people may or may not have said rage with moving companies, kitchen manufacturers, the odd concierge, the asshole at pick up. This list goes on and on. It really doesn’t discriminate.
I am just going to snowball here and go that one step further to staying at home. Go on vacation for the entire duration of your menopause. Let’s call it a retreat or even better, rehab. Somewhere warm but not too warm, maybe light sweater weather, cute shoes. And solitude continues to be an important theme. Go. Alone.
Menopause certainly isn’t the reward for 25 years of you , me and Aunt Flo so create your own, I say. Vacations all around!
I haven’t tried this one yet as my episodes are usually chased with teary sorrys and guilt gifts but maybe the right amount of crazy rage is endearing? Borderline sexy? You know, cute mental like Angelina Jolie in Girl, Interrupted. It could happen.
This is why I love Ragey. She totally does not own up to her usual rage patterns and blames it on something out of her control to make her feel better and less certifiable. It makes arguing with her fruitless. Good on ya! #Genius
As an aside, if you want to send me something as a guest blogger, this has been totally fun. I can roast you, I don’t have to write much, and the world is grand. So, if you have something you think my readers (hey, that’s you) would like, send it over. We can share friends. I don’t mind.