It is often in the small hours of the morning that I find myself awake, fighting off dreams that are searching for meaning. This morning is one of those mornings. I misplaced a favorite sweatshirt. I have been riddled with angst ever since I sought out its comfort and found I have NO IDEA where I have left it. Is it in my vehicle? No. Is it at my gym? NO. Did I leave it at work? Possibly… To the outside observer this all most seem trivial, but it worries me. I am not a fan of getting older. I have noticed that lately my hands are unable to button /unbutton tiny closures. I cannot see fine print as easily as I used to. My music is now MUZAK. WTF. Sometimes, more often than I like to admit, I am having a time remembering everything. I have become a list maker. A LIST MAKER (Key, dread filled muzak).

Hubby and I went to bed at 8:30 ON PURPOSE. WHO? have I BECOME? Well, I have zero ideas, but I will never stop trying to figure it out. I am having a hard time at the moment with my headspace. Menopause is a tough mistress. She takes (my youth), takes (my hair), takes (my humor) and the only things she is willing to give I do not want (wrinkles, weight gain, and, anger issues). Most days I am just fine. I mean I have to embrace whatever comes at me, eventually. I try to live every day with a positive twist but sometimes I carry the weight of my decisions on my shoulders which in turn becomes bad dreams where I feel like I am treading water wearing kitten heels and a white shimmering dress. [Spoiler alert…this is an obscure reference to Ginger Grant on Gilligan’s Island. I told you I am OLD…er] No one will rescue me, that is my job. I am capable. I am willing. I just need to stop being so hard on myself.

I recently watched a video; ok it was an Instagram reel but still. This guy was talking about how we as humans have to learn to lose people and be okay with it. He wasn’t talking about loved ones who die but people who walk away from our lives or that we walk away from. I learned that my “need” to ask my hubby a hundred times a day if he is okay is actually a leftover from childhood trauma. Why? because no one ever asked me if I was okay when I was a kid and I clearly was not. Mind Blown! I overthink everything. I have a hard time relaxing. I lack the ability to let go. I suffer with anxiety, who doesn’t? I don’t like people to know that but recently I have come to the conclusion that I do much better if I just admit I am having a tough day. Life can be a challenge on great days. I love a good challenge. I am not giving up on myself any time soon. Thanks for sitting with me while I thought through my nightmare. I think I will go back to bed and squeeze in between hubby and our cat and just wait for the dawn of a new day…Check you later…