I’m losing myself to a hormonal hell
OK, so this isn’t going to go down well with at least half of you, I would imagine.
It’s a subject that very definitely comes under “wimmin’s” problems.
But I’m thinking it should be given an airing because, although it’s a condition served up solely to us oh-so-lucky females, it actually affects whole families, and in particular those closest to you, i.e. partners/husbands/kids.
Even though I’ve been fully aware that it would eventually come my way – as well as being in total denial and hoping I’d be the first woman ever NOT to experience it – this horrible thing is more horrible than I thought it would be.
You can blame the novelist Marian Keyes if you like, as it was she who prompted me to air all of this when I read that she had said “if men went through the menopause nopause they would be given 10 years off work”. Ha! That’s a cause I would get behind.
I could do with 10 years off right now, although I love work and would rather be given an EXTRA 10 years of work than a bundle of free time to get to know the altered person I am in the face of this hormonal slaughter.
I feel jittery, have lost confidence in my ability to carry out simple tasks such as shopping, I spend ages mulling over choices and then get in a panic and leave rather than having to make decisions.
I stress out over what to cook for the family and often suggest a takeaway so I won’t have to deal with it.
I have never been a jittery sort of person.
My television work has for years like to mainly involved live TV, which is not usually recommended for the faint-hearted among us. In all the years I’ve been working in the media, I’ve very rarely felt butterflies in my stomach.
Now, though, they’re constantly with me.
I’ve even been turning down jobs, fearful that I might not be up to the task.
It’s a proper personal hell on Earth.
I witnessed my poor mum go through it, mostly in tears, for years, before she ended up with earlyonset Alzheimer’s.
Thankfully things have changed over time, though, as have pharmaceuticals.
I’m currently on what seems like every hormone possible. Which if they give me myself back will be worth every penny.
And funnily enough, my husband agrees with wit me, for once!
Jittery, I’ve lost confidence in my ability to carry out simple tasks
‘— my shorts!’, iconic catchphrase of
Bart Simpson.