London Archives - Midlifecrisisnut

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London (2 posts found)

Ludovico Einaudi - My London Memories My love affair with the music of Ludovico Einaudi began eleven years ago, when we moved to London. It was an artistic love at first sight when I tuned in to Classic Fm Radio and heard his musical creations for the first time. Einaudi was already a very ...

Youth and Wisdom of the World - Twenty Years Later When I was young I had it all figured out. I had grand plans for the future, which involved nothing less than taking the world by storm and setting it on fire (of course figuratively speaking, since the closest I got to pyromania, was light...

A student came to his Zen master and asked him how he can attain absolute nirvana. The master, without saying a word, raised his index finger, and replied: What’s missing?

Let’s admit it, we’ve all had that moment, or even longer lasting periods of time, where we were not happy with ourselves for whatever reason. Be it a career choice we’ve made, draining family circumstances or physical appearance, there was something that was bothering us and sucking the life out (through a very thin straw) of our sorrowful existence.

For some of us it was the chest that we thought needed enlargement, a nose requiring straightening (in the long run I’m happy I didn’t fix mine) or the tights having their fat drained, because we found them too large; a marriage that could be more fulfilling, motherhood less taxing, a job that actually pays and let’s you buy your damn Manolo Blahniks, without having to beg your husband. I could continue the (in my case very long) inventory based on personal shortfalls and general inadequacy, but that’s not the point I intended to make in this introspective write-up.

Yes, we’re all the same when it comes to whining. I mean, we could spend all day fussing about the flabby body parts, the lack of courtesy from the male half of humanity, or complaining how the advertising reality makes us feel ugly.

But maybe it’s time to try something completely NEW instead, and for once be happy with our pitiful lives?

Admittedly, let’s not beat around the bush: starting from midlife, pretty much everything we got to cherish in terms of body image will begin let loose and eventually crumble. Long before we catch the drift, the skin, the bosom, the butt, and even the knees, will start sagging and sending us running to the aesthetic clinic in an attempt to fix it. I suggest then, that instead of having the skin moved up to our ears, it’s far wiser to accept this pragmatic fact, move beyond it and start enjoying what’s still left intact in the physical department.

And in terms of unsatisfying marriage, let’s be honest here: who on earth told us that he’ll have these mellow eyes for us forever, or keep on the gallant opening of doors without end (plus maybe it’s partly due to our bitchiness that we kind of drove him away anyways)? Let’s look at our partners less as the main source of evil, and more as the longtime accomplice to have fun with, shake the walls or turn the world upside down. After all, let’s not forget, he was the one who was there for us since the beginning and didn’t mind when we got old and yucky, and eventually started to fall apart.

When we glance at what we already have from the other side of the fence, we realize that we have everything in order to be happy, and that absolutely nothing is missing at all. Not to mention that we’re still alive and kicking, unlike many people we loved and knew, who were less fortunate and are admiring this beautiful world regrettably from six feet under.

The world we live in right now is an amazing place!

Let’s begin to cherish it before it’s too late.

Especially us, women of midlife, let’s wake up to happiness, laughter and peace with ourselves, all this while not missing a second of the remaining time (For if not now, then when?). The world is at our feet and ready to be conquered, and nothing should stop us from going after long forgotten dreams. We’ve waited long enough to get to the point where we are right now, let’s not miss our five minutes and finally start enjoying life.

Because before we know it we’ll be wearing diapers and sucking juice through a very thin straw in a cozy blanket.

Therefore, hell yes, I’m saying:

Let’s grab life by the balls and shake the damn walls!

I Killed My Ovaries - Bloody Hell, Now What?

Two years ago, at the age of 38 I was diagnosed with POF. And by that I don’t mean the POF, (Plenty Of Fish) - leading online dating service, but more likely the Premature Ovarian Failure (called interchangeably premature menopause), which hit me like a piece of debris coming straight from the sky.

Menopausal at 38? Are you f*cking kidding me?! – I looked at my gynecologist, questioning the unlikely results of my hormonal chart (which in fact showed that I’ve been way advanced into post menopause, putting my hormones in the range of zero).

Yet, as I was soon to uncover, the hell he was not!

To my misfortune, I rapidly experienced all the blessings that came with my newly acquired condition: hot flashes, night sweats, mood swings, anxiety, extreme fatigue, depression, decreased libido, vaginal dryness, recurring bladder infections, hair loss, memory problems, incontinence, bloating, allergies, panic attacks, muscle aches etc.

Refusing to accept the brutal diagnosis, for two years I’ve been luring myself that it was just a temporary hick-up, that with the help of a magic wand my ovarian utility would return, and in the end would bless me with a bloody period.

But no! Nothing! Nada! Zero! Not even a drop!

So I gave up, and being an ideological Buddhist, I began to accept, that in reality I’m cooked. That not even the Bloody Mary can help me to recover, what I have lost during years of starvation and continued mental exhaustion.

Being worn out by the whole experience of having less than zero hormones, I started meditating, doing yoga, taking herb cocktails and even talking to God. I was locking myself in the bedroom, as soon I had the sudden urge to yell, not to scare my already traumatised husband and children, notoriously terrified of the scary mom.

With time passing I began to comprehend that I’ve slowly killed my own ovaries, by skipping meals, watching my waistline and trying to fit in my nine years old daughter’s jeans. That having depleted my body from vital body fat, I was left with no oestrogen, progesterone, not even thyroxin.

Thus I took, the cream, the pill, sometimes both, sometimes neither, and after months of trying to get the dose right, am happy to announce to all of you menopause survivors, that with the right mix of the magical powder (no, it's not dope I'm talking), you can continue to be alive and kicking, whatever the outlook. That menopause, no matter if you’re 38 or 60 (according to the level of my hormones, I'm 68), doesn’t mean the end of everything that you knew until now, but is simply a question of nailing the precise combination down.

That within a few months of listening to your body and adjusting the portion on your spoon’s end you can get rid of the debilitating hot flashes and start sleeping again (not to mention that you can stop using Almond Oil to lubricate yourself).

Too bad Angelina Jolie didn’t realized it earlier, and had her ovaries removed, without first trying that damn (yet miraculous) progesterone cream!