Men. Oh. Pause. Rewind.

Posted by Liz on Jul 10, 2009 in humour, Inspiration | 6 comments

I’d like to welcome guest blogger Amy Ferris.

Amy writes about all things women. She is an author (a greater goode, Houghton Mifflin Publishers; The Buddha Next Door, Anthology, Middleway Press), a screenwriter (Mr. Wonderful, Anthony Minghella, Director, and Funny Valentines, Julie Dash, Director) and  an editor. Following is an excerpt from her new book, ‘Marrying George Clooney – Confessions from a Midlife Crisis‘ (Seal Press) which is available by pre-order from Amazon.com.

Show Amy some love!

Imagine this scenario if you will: you’re in the Holland or Lincoln Tunnel, all of a sudden, without a warning, all the lights go out, including all the headlights on all the cars. You’re stuck. There’s no going forward; there’s no going backwards. Complete and utter darkness. And you know in your soul that others are going through the exact same thing – but no one, not one person gets out of their car.

Welcome to menopause.

I have been depressed, anxious, forgetful, lost in a fog, angry, and resentful, with an emphasis on ‘angry’. I have been filled with tremendous hope, and in the next unexpected moment, filled with the exact amount of despair. I have cried uncontrollably from my gut, and I have laughed from the depths of my soul. I have felt like throwing my life away, as in literally jumping off a bridge. I have witnessed my body grow one full size while sleeping so undly.

In the midst of this fresh hell, I decided to quit smoking. I’m not sure if it was an act of courage or just simply self-destructive behavior. Much to my husband’s grand delight, not to mention my friends and family, I decided to divorce the one constant that kept me from experiencing my feelings fully – a cigarette.

So, not only were my hormones doing a ferocious dance – now my suppressed, discarded feelings were vying for attention.

This is the point in the story I get to introduce my husband. Please raise your hand if any of you have turned into the devil doll on a dime. You know what I’m talking about – that moment when your husband (or wife, or partner) says or does something trivial, innocuous, a casual throw-a-way and without a moments hesitation you respond by burning a hole in their heart with your tongue. And it’s all down hill from there. The only word that comes to mind to describe my behavior is vile. The only word to describe my husband’s reaction is stunned.

Along with weight gain and mental anguish, insomnia is yet another ‘side dish’ accompanying menopause. So, late one night while unable to sleep and tossing a coin – heads, Ambien, tails, Ambien – it occurred to me that it was time for me to put into practice what I deeply believe. To a) truly embrace and love every single part of me. Not just the good and kind and generous, but the bad and unattractive and mentally unstable. And b) find the enlightened side — it was my obligation and responsibility to acknowledge and hold dear the privilege of my very own life.

Every single woman I know, without exception, has or will experience some deep inner turmoil or upheaval because of menopause. It is a part of being a woman. Period. I have known women of great equilibrium to wobble horrifically because they were in the process of dealing with this huge change of life. The good news: most women credit this hell as the single most profound experience, which has enabled them to uncover their own greatness. I can definitely embrace that.

And here’s the enlightened side: Menopause is just like couture fashion. Some of it is just really ugly.

Welcome to my world.