I was crying. Again. Second time this week.
Not that crying is a crime or anything. I mean, I am a woman and it comes with the territory for many of us. It was what I was crying over that had my husband staring at me with a panicked expression, as if he feared for my sanity.
The bakery was out of donut holes.
Yes, I’m cringing too as I write this. Actually, I’m kinda laughing now - but I wasn’t a few hours ago.
The donut hole shortage was the cause of the second crying episode this week. The first crying spell was over a stain on my favorite skirt. Again, being a woman, that wasn’t as dramatic as the donut hole breakdown. Let’s be real. A favorite skirt is a staple we simply cannot live without. Just let a go-to skirt in your wardrobe get ruined and you’ll be crying too.
So, what was the real issue here? It wasn’t the donut holes or skirt stain that prompted such a dramatic response.
We all have them. Sometimes they behave and, sometimes, they go haywire.
For me, the haywire episodes started with the onset of the one word most prime-of-life women only dare to whisper to their closest friends and family: menopause. It’s as if the very mention of the word ignites hot flashes and sprouts gray hair and it’s all gloom and doom for the rest of your womanhood days. (It’s okay, ladies, just breathe.)
But my body didn’t stop at the menopause crossroads and wait for me to catch up. I imagine hearing the echo of its ominous snickering, “Let’s mess with her a bit more.”
Last year, I was diagnosed with Hashimoto’s. Here I thought I had inherited an upscale Japanese restaurant that would allow me to retire early and enjoy a leisurely existence. Not so! Instead, I was gifted with ornery little antibodies that decided to wage war on my thyroid and force medication on me that I’ll be taking for the rest of my life.
And . . . there went the hormones. Again.
I have since learned that sleep is overrated and missing your morning coffee has nothing on persistent brain fog. With my current energy levels, I seriously doubt I’ll ever compete in a triathlon or climb to the summit of Mt. Everest. But would I have ever accomplished those things anyway? Exactly.
Oh, and did I mention the crying sessions? Yeah, those are fun. Especially when they make surprise visits.
Maybe you’re going through hormonal avalanches as well. You—and maybe a few people around you—feel like you’re going crazy. The organized, energetic, well-put-together woman you used to be has morphed into a couch potato, whose only desire is to sleep, eat chocolate truffles, and read novels (pick ones that don’t make you cry, for goodness sake!).
You need to have the bloodwork, the tests, the doctor visits. They’re necessary. Do it! You need to ask questions, inform your family and friends that your body may, at times, be hijacked and you need a bit of grace and lots of hugs.
You also need to give yourself grace. You didn’t ask for this battle, but it’s yours nonetheless.
It’s okay to take care of yourself and you absolutely SHOULD. One of my favorite sayings is, “You can’t draw water from an empty well.” (I think Emily Ley said that?). You won’t be any good to anyone else if you don’t rest and heal.
So, take that bubble bath, eat a few (a few!) truffles, read the novel, buy a new favorite skirt, and invest in any other positive self-care activities you can indulge in. Then, get back up and embrace your wayward hormones like the prodigals they are.
You might as well laugh about it—they’re here to stay.
You also have permission to bawl your eyes out at the devastating news that there are no donut holes at the bakery today. Try again tomorrow . . .
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