An epistle on hormones

Last night I celebrated the menopause.

Yes, I say ‘celebrate’ because for the last two or three months I have been having trouble sleeping. I thought this was due to stress. Which in part it was. The writing business is incredibly competitive, and in journalism trying to break into a new market isn’t easy. So I felt under tremendous pressure to prove myself.

I succeeded, but the price to pay was increased anxiety and sleepless nights.

Soon I began to realise that sleeping had become a Problem. And once you start worrying about something as basic as sleeping, it becomes much more difficult to sleep. Having a very active brain, the only time I do switch off is when I’m asleep, so sleep is crucial. And when I couldn’t I was lying there worrying because I wasn’t sleeping and knew I’d be tired the next day – and so on it goes.

I tried everything. With a sleeping pill I could get 5 or 6 hours kip a night. Without I got 2 or 3 hours, and I really don't function on 3 hours sleep. But I worried because I didn't want to get addicted to them. I tried heavier lined curtains, milky drinks – you name it. And no, I’m afraid any herbal remedies had absolutely no effect.

I started getting more worried, thinking I couldn’t cope. Why couldn’t I cope? I always had done before.

In desperation, and after nearly 3 months of this, I started seeing a counsellor and it was an incredible relief to spill out all my worries to someone who was able to deal with them. I didn’t have to worry about worrying her. She understood. And that goes a long way.

I finished the first draft of my novel and thought – hooray! I can celebrate! Forget about it and have some time off.

Then an agent emailed saying she would like to see the entire manuscript of my previous novel. Normally I would have jumped in the air, celebrating, but as I knew it needed some revision, that prospect seemed more pressure than I could cope with.
I needed a holiday. Badly.

Then I got an abscess, and two lots of antibiotics had drastic effects so I had to stop taking them. Then my GP gave me something else to knock me out at night and the effect of that was my heart started banging so hard I thought it was going to jump out of my chest. I lay in bed, holding onto Himself for dear life, crying, “I’m frightened.”

After that I seemed to have palpitations on and off – like having an ongoing panic attack. For no reason. I despaired of ever sleeping again properly. I felt I was cracking up. And having done so, many years ago, I knew that dark tunnel is the most terrifying place you can imagine. Literally a living hell. Where you can’t relax, don’t feel safe, feel as if you are splintering into tiny fragments. Don’t go there.

We came back from our break and I managed to get some rest and sleep a bit better. But on Monday I woke up and my heart was racing – another day long panic attack. Oh no. What was I to do?

I met a dear friend for lunch which I couldn’t eat. Food wasn’t going down. Another bad sign for me. She listened thoughtfully and said, ‘do you think this might be the beginning of the menopause?’

I looked at her and a large question mark filled my mind. I raced back home and googled ‘menopause symptoms’. There I read –
“insomnia often due to anxiety. Racing heart – palpitations. Sore breasts. Irregular periods – or none at all.” In fact the only symptom I didn’t have was hot flushes.

I could have cried with relief. I wasn’t cracking up. It was The Change!

Suddenly everything fell into place. I looked up my file from Dr Gray and saw she had written, “if you start to feel low start taking half a patch (HRT) twice a week. If symptoms don’t improve, raise the dose.” The last time I’d seen her I was feeling fine, which was why I hadn’t remembered this significant gem of advice.

I rang her, just to make sure and she said, “you’ve done absolutely the right thing. But if you need me, you know where I am.” What sweet words of comfort.

So I opened a lovely bottle of wine and Pip and I toasted my hormones.

Since then I am now sleeping better, have cut down my sleeping pills and hope to be off them for good very soon.

Courtesy of our break I am more relaxed, enjoying editing my novel before I send it off to the agent, and have finished a piece on our wedding for a bridal magazine. Next in the pipeline is a piece on zerobalancing. But I am enjoying the variety and the challenge. Every day is different and while I must be careful not to overdo things, I love what I do. And I intend to get better.

My counsellor has signed me off, saying she’s there if I want her. But I seem “in a good place at the moment” and why rock the boat? Why indeed?

I walked Mollie round the castle this morning and enjoyed the sunshine, the sweet scent of the dog roses. I was incredibly grateful just to be alive and be happy. To love and be loved. To live in such a beautiful place. And to have the support when things go wrong.

So the motto of this epistle is – take breaks. Don’t work too hard. Enjoy life. Ask for help if you need it. And remember, if you’re of a certain age and start feeling you really can’t cope. Stop. Listen. It could well be your hormones.