My Perimenopausal Script

June 17,

Unknown time earlier in my day

Epiphany in the Shower:

Please be advised that although this is my diary designed for educational and humor-filled purposes, everything I write here about others is my opinion, perspective, judgment, and view—whatever you want to call it. It’s my opinion, my prerogative, and my right to creatively express myself in whatever hormonal wave I am authentic about sharing—point blank periodt. Anyone easily offended and butt-hurt, I make no apologies for my way of communicating things. If there is something I write that you disagree with, feel free to express it on your own platform—just make sure you speak respectfully.

June 17, 8:08 PM:

The things we tell people when we actually listen…

8:10 PM:

How real could I be if I don’t write down the things that need to be said and sit with them, never unleashing their true essence?

8:27 PM:

I’ve been writing for a long time, yet for a long time, I still wouldn’t write what needed to be written because that would require acknowledgment that this current evolution was not opening its arms for. And so cycles continued to grow and seal predictive fates that I was the last one to see. But here I am, psychic as can be. You would think this ability is a gift, yet it first teaches you through its curse—because this is how evolution’s opportunity is born. But it must be nurtured into full existence once fermented. But what do I ever know about myself until I’m waist-deep in the mud, attempting to walk through as time catches up with me in turbulent ways?

I know I don’t like this feeling of maturity seeping from subconscious to conscious, and now what is to be done with this newfound awareness? Change must ensue, or so we believe, but that requires actual effort at the fulcrum.

Here I go with the poetry within my language, painting variables of syllables because wordsmith is my style of stoic purpose. I am reflective on purpose. Introspection is my molecule of particles learning this navigation system. What video game console are you a willing participant-performer on? Or what show speaks your life or dream? Know what I mean? When does one ever critically think outside their own circumference? Eyes trump this!

This weight gain is unbearable! There! I finally said it. Instead of this or that, wiggling myself into other things instead of saying what’s really on my mind. Perimenopausal rude awakening to the maturity of aging, making me pay attention to the present state of conditions. This vessel, this body of mine that I never once appreciated at the time—now seemingly malfunctioning in ways I was not prepared to face or acknowledge. In this realm of perceived worldly existence, we have this aging process that, no matter how young you act, look, or feel—it catches up with you for real! One day, you’re looking 20, and then your body reminds you that your youthful fertility is running out. And soon you won’t have as many options as you once had when it comes to having children and being able to co-create a life on your terms. Here I felt like the fountain of youth within me was forever, and then time flies—we are having fun, life on the run—and then we hit this quicksand moment telling you to be still.

Be present. Be here. There’s a new rodeo in town inside your body that needs your attention. And so you ignore many reality check-ins because you can, and then before you know it, the one reality that you have tried to not acknowledge and ignore is the what feels like uncontrollable weight gain that can be active when your hormones begin to shift from actively fertile to perimenopausal. I didn’t even know that was a thing. This is like the preteen into adult era that’s currently missing in our world. Like where are the preteens of this world? They are acting like a bunch of mini-adults with beauty routines and businesses. So as dumb as these young girls are and ignorant to adult reality is where I find myself in this perimenopausal environment reminding me that it doesn’t matter how young I appear to be. In this realm of perceived reality, in this 3D world, there are timetables here, and in this human vessel, we collectively will go through similar bodily timelines no matter how healthy you believe yourself to be. I refuse to be defined by some elaborate consensus of some mad scientist study determining for me anything about my biological clock and what will happen to me from this age range to this age range. Funk outta here with that boom ca-ca—whom better to manifest within ourselves the elaborate cellular molecular mind, body, heart, and soul dial-up interconnections and fix for this hormonal madness. Because there’s a part of our existence here on earth that can heal ourselves—it’s just getting into that particle of existence in this alternative reality. It’s quantum physics at its finest, and all we need to really be able to do is truly understand it, and that will be its activation. But even those who believe most still don’t believe enough and are always in search of this mysterious immortality that exists somewhere in our quantum universe and within ourselves. For we are more than these bodies. We are souls having this human experience. Here I am getting so triggered by those ignorant dudes who talk about 30+ and 40-year-olds being old and lacking in fertility— me arguing through my screen that they are stupid as funk. Women are still fertile well into their 40s. And although as true as can be, in this world, there still is this average age range that will show you it’s right in all due time once you reach these age ranges and these changes begin to happen to you whether you want to accept them or not.

So here is where perimenopausal begins—in its fucked-up state, mad at the world because nobody warned them that this would happen. And so unprepared, I showed up to class, and I never like being too early, and this doesn’t feel right to me. And yet I’m supposed to accept these changes and make changes to counteract any shifts happening to me physically. It’s so easy to go into my mind and think of all the secret witches in my life who have secretly wished me to get fat, all smug in their worlds right now thinking their brujeria/spell/magic/stupidity finally worked. It’s so laughable to me that this thought even creeps into my awareness to write because there are people in this world who do think like that and fall blind and ignorant to their own god-like delusions. Anyhoo, just those lines of thinking trigger me to always want to keep things to myself and not be vulnerable because I don’t like to give people the satisfaction of knowing that they got to me in any way—which is why anything I share of present will always be shared at a much later date, never in the time of presence because that’s how warped we can be when we believe ourselves to give our power away and the things we learn to avoid and control because of such experiences. The word loss is a trigger for me, especially in tarot, because immediately I think horrific things. And meanwhile, that fear is false evidence appearing real and creating unnecessary stress within my energy ley lines. And that is the type of stuff we are not trying to do. It makes me sad. I feel sad, and in all my dramatics, I don’t know how to fix this sad. And so I know it’s these hormones, and that makes me feel helpless. And that’s the demon I learn to conquer and whoop ass right now—because now is won.

June 17, 9:55 PM:

Breakthroughs-that’s what l feel like my writing is creating… breakthroughs.

If you look at the pre-teens in this world and notice, you will see the pre-teens of this world and the pre-teens of long ago are nowhere near the same, especially when it comes to virtue and value. There’s a lot of superficiality that does not matter taking greedily control over the masses. But upon reflection and introspection, those once pre-teens who skipped out on being pre-teens and reflect back when they are older with wisdom would see the error in that wave of being and hopefully realize how important every stage/step is on the journey. No other step more significant than the other. The treasure activates when presence is realized, and the present becomes a gift. But until then, every stage and step is this opportunity to be in that created space and to allow that space to become and be. That’s what perimenopausal is representing here for me. It’s like forcing me to acknowledge my present to see if that’s even where I desire to be or is it in alignment with my truest desires. And if not, what am I prepared to do about it?

And that’s the thing. Just like real pre-teens, we come unprepared and we are guided by our masses, and like asses, we end up learning things the harder way after that time is lost/spent and we can’t get that time back.

So here I am… preteen stage into adult, and I am becoming aware of it because biologically my vessel is becoming louder than my facade of feeling 20 but really in my 40s. And I have no choice but to assess this situation, and I find these assessments are making me feel sad. And I am homegrown and created to never feel defeated, at least not for too long because there is always a solution within everything. But my fear— which is false evidence appearing real-is depressing me, even when the wiser me knows better and gets it. But hormonal I feel, and I am certainly a mood within a moon cycle, and the moon is always in some lunar phase of lunacy.

Oh, and let’s not forget to mention the increased period cycles, so instead of once a month in my perimenopausal waves, it’s like I get my period almost every 2-1/2-3 weeks. So it’s not only every full moon, it’s every new moon too. And if we know anything about mysticism, then we know the power of that in this human world. And delusional in all its power, you would think this should be beneficial to my condition, but emotions are emotions, and perimenopausal doesn’t give any fucks or ducks, which sucks about my feelings about these changes. This in-between stage is meant to be lived and learned, not skipped nor ignored.

And if all of our feelings are being hijacked by hormones, this means all bets are off. At least for me, this hormonally applies. And here l am on my individual journey. Isolated. We feel isolated. Alone. Especially when we are our hormones. No matter how much we connect or desire to connect with the collective, alone is how it all feels.

We search for people with whom we resonate. A lot of the time, it all feels like foreign languages on foreign lands, and all so many focus upon is what did I eat today?

I ate nothing except drank smoothies and tea.

It’s 10:06 PM, and my stomach growls. How is this helping me? Will I succumb to late-night eating that definitely will pack on more pounds, or will I fast for today and call it holy? This is where I am at. Unhappy with my physical environment, and my behavior shows it because I have canceled people, things, even my yoga for almost two weeks. Why? Because I don’t want to be around people, and that type of attitude will only turn me more into a potato. And if that is what I want, then don’t change a thing. But that’s not what I want, so everything must change.

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall, Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.

All the king’s horses and all the king’s men,

Couldn’t put Humpty together again. In other words, we can be cracked or scrambled, but please don’t be a hard-boiled egg that looks like a potato.

Music for my soundtrack:

Ravid-New Day

Calm Upon You