I saw my gynecologist yesterday and learned that at 45, I am more than likely menopausal. Not peri-menopausal, but through it. All the way. Done. Finished. I haven’t had time to suss out how that makes me feel yet, but over the past twenty-four hours, it’s been alternating between euphoria and despair.
I am euphoric that at last I have some idea why my moods have been so crazy for the last couple of years and why I can’t seem to lose these unwanted pounds. Simultaneously, I despair at the feeling that my youth and prime is behind me, even though I know that is inaccurate and the years remaining to me can and will be my most productive.
When he first mentioned the word, all I could think was, nooooooooo!!!! I’m only 45! I can’t be through menopause! Hot on the heels of those thoughts were ones more exciting and liberating: I’m only 45, and I never have to buy feminine products again! I never again have to worry about bloating or PMS! I can wear white jeans whenever I want! I have half a lifetime ahead of me to be just me without being at the mercy of my hormones!
Blood and hormone tests will confirm, so until then I am left to contemplate how I feel.