Shattered Heads and Mugs

Humpty Dumpty
From: http://www.npengage.com/operations/lessons-from-humpty-dumpty/

I have to face the fact that for me, anyway, menopause has ushered in an era of ultimate klutz-hood. I am constantly tripping, dropping, banging into stuff and slipping, and why I am not yet dead is beyond me.

Example: my ‘sort of’ mother-in-law (another story for another day) was coming later in the day on Sunday, and I was in frenetic cleaning mode. I’d finished vacuuming the family room, and bent down to unplug the vacuum, when I felt searing pain and the flow of liquid to accompany it. . I’d rammed my head into the edge of the buffet, a mighty sharp edge, might I add.

The liquid was red and it was everywhere. My head hurt like samurai sword had stabbed it, and I wondered if I should call someone, drive myself to Urgent Care, or stick my head in the toilet. I did none of these things. Instead, as a good First Aider, I kept tons of paper towel with tons of pressure against the wound and wandered around the house alternately cursing my clumsiness and feeling deprived that  no one was home who would give me the appropriate sympathy.

mug
Similar to My Little Mug

Today: another tragedy – I dropped my beloved and totally funky little coffee mug. I have a thing for hand-made pottery, especially coffee mugs, and my favorite haunts to find them are thrift stores. A few months ago I found this squat, round-like-a-globe, blue and white mug that felt so good in my hand and reminded me a bit of my own mid-section rotundness.  I was whizzing around in fast-forward and I thought I placed my mug on the counter, but alas, it fell before I could catch it and shattered into myriad fragments, just like Humpty-Dumpty.

So, I am grieving my mug. I am pissed about my klutziness. I think it is time to slow down.

Maslow vs. Menopause

Have you ever felt like you were outside yourself? Like you’re sort of outside looking in? It’s a feeling like you’re watching, judging, and controlling your actions, your thoughts, your BEING from the outside. Like instead of walking down the street and thinking of whatever, like what you’re going to have for dinner, you’re walking down the street watching yourself walk down the street, and thinking about the fact that you’re walking down the street instead of just doing it.

I suspect this is one of those things in life that many of us go through until we achieve what Maslow calls self-actualization: realizing one’s potential, achieving self-fulfillment, and seeking growth and peak experiences.

I do not espouse to having achieved self-actualization in the true Maslow sense, but I do know that something is different. The question I pose is this: when did this ‘different-ness’ happen? When did I stop looking from the outside in? When did I feel comfy dashing out the door clad in sweats, no makeup, and hair askew? When did I stop being a waffler, a woman without an opinion and too scared to express one even if I did?

This new place feels free, fresh and exhilarating. It is sans the hellish ups and downs of the monthly hormone cocktail. It is gray and wrinkly and puffy in the middle. It is be healthy but have fun. It is a damn good place to be. It is menopause and I made it here in one piece!