One night, about 7 years ago, I went to bed expecting that when I awoke the next morning everything would be the same as it had always been.  Little did I know that as I slept, changes were taking place in my body, mind and spirit that I wasn’t prepared for.  No one asked me if I wanted these changes, they just came.  In my cocoon of sleep I could never imagine how my life would shift, how my body would no longer feel like it belonged to me.  I went to sleep a vibrant woman and woke up smack dab in the beginning throws of menopause.  The most surprising part of this involuntary transformation is that it didn’t come with an instruction manual.

 At 43, I supposed I was too young for menopause to sneak up behind me and turn my world into a spinning downward spiral.  It entered my existence in silence, never revealing itself for what it really was, or what it would become.  It disguised itself as general malaise, fatigue that never quite went away.  I began questioning myself at every turn.  Where were the thoughts coming from that were suddenly bombarding my mind and dreams?  I felt a deep rumbling somewhere where my soul resides that slowly started spinning in a different direction.  Something had changed but it wasn’t until years later that I realized it had a name. 

 Never being close enough to the women in my family to have ever discussed it when it would have been easier to understand (perhaps), I only knew that menopause crept up on my mother around the same age as I.  Still, I ignored it, since the way my body felt and the way I looked at life, I didn’t think for a second that I would follow in my mother’s footsteps and begin this transformation so young.

 Now that I know what has happened, I’m pissed off about it.  (As the author, I can use words like “pissed off”!).  I’m angry that I have no control over it.  I’m angry that I didn’t see it coming.  I’m angry that the society I live in tries its best to hide it, to ignore it, or to over-medicate it.  Yes, I’m angry.  The anger I feel is very deep inside, like a silent thunder storm that no one hears but me.  It invades my waking and sleep states.  It rules over my ability to make decisions or logical choices.  It has robbed me of strength; both physical, emotional and spiritual.  It has attached itself to the very best parts of who I am now and once was.

Continued here