I guess that last year at this time, Carole and I were traipsing around the river trails. That is so not happening this weekend. It’s being a very bad year for me so far, menopause wise. Much worse than last year, which just isn’t fair. It should get better, not worse. So say I.
I’m grateful my body works as it should. I’m grateful I don’t need surgery or medication. I’m grateful that my life is set up so that I can deal with excessive bleeding, pretty much wherever I am, including at work and at meetings. I’m grateful there’s a light at the end of this tunnel and that I know it will be over one day, and I’ll be lucky to live to see it through to the end. I’m grateful my lady parts have worked so well to give me two pregnancies and two children, just exactly when I wanted them. I’m grateful that I have this practice of gratitude and that it’s impossible for me to sink too deeply into the pit of the present symptoms that I sometimes feel I cannot bear. I know that I can bear them. I’m grateful that I realize that the future isn’t promised to me, that the future may well be very much worse than the present, that I should not waste away the present in feeling awful about this.
I’m grateful that I’ve undergone a profound personality change (in the words of As Bill Sees It #1). I’m grateful that I know it is fragile and temporary, and that I have to take care of it or I will change back.