My Current Ailments: An Incomplete List

For the past several weeks (save for one week of being sick and living on NyQuil), I’ve been waking up between 2:00-4:00 every morning with my mind buzzing. Such is the case currently. I typically have a few hours of wake time. I occasionally try a technique called cognitive shuffling to get myself to go back to sleep. Sometimes around 6:00, I’m successful. Other times I just stay awake and try to be productive. If all else fails, I try blogging because that seems to be the one thing I can’t do lately without falling asleep. 

(Insert nap here).

Anyway, (post nap) there’s a topic I’ve been wanting to write about, but I don’t want to sound whiney or dramatic. So just know, I’m being matter-of-fact here and not “woe is me.” 

Okay maybe just a little “woe is me.”

As a warning, this post is the equivalent of listening to your in-laws talk about all their medical conditions, medications, and funeral plans. I’ve crossed some sort of threshold. You may recall that I turned 40 this year. If you somehow missed that, I think I’ve mentioned it no less than 300 times since the moment I turned 39 (although, I have mentioned it less and less over time). I tried to make turning 40 a fun thing by doing a 40 x 40 project in 2023 where I set 40 goals to complete before my birthday (I mostly failed, but I got a few things accomplished). I thought turning 40 wouldn’t be bad at all, but I liked the idea of using it as a springboard for a life reset. I didn’t think I would be heavily affected by being 40. Boy, was I wrong! My year of being 40 has thrown me for a loop! I really didn’t think things would be that different. One day I would be 39, the next day I would be 40. No big deal. Sure, I’d develop a wrinkle here and there, but I thought it would happen kinda slow.

In January I unexpectedly started working.  I’m coming up on one year at my job, which is so crazy! That was the biggest change for this year and a positive one. I LOVE my job, and it is so flexible. I never have to choose between work and my family. There was a day when Nicky texted me that he was going to be performing in an assembly, and I was able to leave work right then and go see him. I was like “See ya! My kid let me know he’s performing in 20 minutes.” (Eye roll on behalf of the kid). 

But in addition to starting a job, I’ve had lots of weird things happen this year. Every symptom of perimenopause came at me like a freight train. Night sweats, brain fog, hair loss, dizziness, changes in taste, and digestive issues, to name a few. I’ve also become incredibly irritable. My PMS is so intense every month. It’s like a switch gets flipped. I feel it happen! Then it’s three to five days of me being an absolute monster until the demons begin to exit my body. To make matters worse, my cycle has shortened to 22-24 days (previously 30-34 days). So not only am I incredibly enraged and moody, it’s happening more frequently! 

As symptoms have piled up, and I google them, they all end up being traceable to perimenopause and/or side effects of medication. So I don’t know what exactly I get to blame other than being 40 and having a body that’s going ape shit. 

Is now a good time to tell you my language is getting more foul with age? But don’t worry, I have a goal to stop swearing when I’m 45, and that includes calling people douche bags when I’m driving. It kind of depends on what the perimenopause is doing to me by then, though. With the average age of menopause at 52, I could be a whole lotta fun for the next ten years. 

Speaking of goal setting, one thing that has changed about me, especially this year, is that I’ve lost my ability to follow through with any sort of goal. I used to thrive on goal setting (I chalk it up to being a New Year’s baby), but now it’s a sure fire way to get me NOT to do something. I’ve also lost interest in reading and in a lot of other activities I used to enjoy. I’ve developed some pretty aggravating misophonia. Any sound I’m not in control of makes me feel like I’m going to lose my mind. This has been really hard as a mother because my kids are so, freaking. noisy. Between my raging PMS and my sensitivity to sounds, I’m irritated all the time. I feel yucky in my soul, and my brain is often hollering “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” 

One of my newest ailments is numbness/burning/pain in my feet. It started a few months ago, and I immediately went to the doctor because I was worried about diabetes. A few years ago I was approaching that line of pre-diabetes, and I was able to get things under control and have had good labs ever since. But I’ve just been lucky because I know I’m not eating or taking care of my body the way I should if want to avoid diabetes, so when my feet started hurting, I thought for sure this was it - my diabetes had arrived! My labs came back fine, though. I didn’t have any easily identifiable reasons for my foot discomfort, so my doctor said it might be neuropathy. Since I was cleared of diabetes, I didn't continue to pursue an explanation, but I need to follow up because my feet are really bothering me. I have seen limb numbness/tingling included on lists of perimenopause symptoms, so I can always blame that, like everything else. 

Another thing that's new this year is that my teeth have become very sensitive to cold. I've always had just a normal response to cold, but now I can't even bite into a turkey sandwich without a zing. Things that have never been bothersome to me before, like drinking water and eating fruit, are painful now. I'm not used to it, so I'm always startled. It makes me really sad. Ice cream can easily land me on the floor curled up in a ball if I'm not careful. I even had sensitivity issues while smiling on a roller coaster at Lagoon in October. I guess in this phase of life, my RBF is now a protective trait. 

And then... why not add watery eyes to the mix? In February, my eyes started watering (and sometimes burning), and I have no idea why. I've had problems with them ever since! I've tried allergy meds, eye drops, and warm compresses. I thought it might be my eyelashes (I wear Flutter Habit extensions sometimes), but even if I stop wearing them or switch glues, my eyes continue to water. I just notice it less because I don't have to worry about my lashes coming off.  I'm always dabbing my eyes, and I think the constant contact is making me more prone to wrinkles and eye bags. My eyes look rough. Sometimes I see myself in the mirror, and they give me a jump scare. 

A few weeks ago I was editing some photos to make a Chatbook for Nicky for Christmas, and I needed to crop an old lady in sweatpants out of the background. It took me a second to realize the old lady was me. I was like, “What?? That’s my face?”

I also have a lot of new moles, skin tags, and other humiliating dermatological problems (one in particular that I'm very embarrassed about and have been to two doctors for and have tried everything google has to offer to no avail). I'm getting a crepey neck, my eyelids are going to sag into my eyeballs any day now (just like my grandpa's), I have jowls, and on top of it all, I still have acne like some hormonal 17 year old. I literally share acne meds with my teenagers. They don't work. On me or on them. We are cursed, and I apologize to my children every day for their poor genetics. 

I wrote in this post about how I've lost a lot of who I am this year. I went to a psychiatrist at the recommendation of my GP and ended up with a sleep apnea diagnosis, so one more joy of being 40 is that I now have a CPAP machine, which I swear is not doing anything to improve my life. All I ask from my CPAP is for a little more energy and stabilized blood pressure. 

Oh, high blood pressure? Yeah, I have that too. But that’s not new at 40. It’s been hanging around for years, and two BP meds aren’t doing the trick. When I found out I had sleep apnea and that high blood pressure is common with that, I thought, “Well, that’s the problem!” But sleeping with my alien mask hasn’t helped my blood pressure at all, so my heart attack is still in queue.

I was mistaken to think I would just ease into my 40's. I was thrown into something against my will, and now a year has passed, and I'm about to turn 41, and I'm carrying my eye bags with me while my eyeballs leak everywhere, my feet hurt, I hate my fellow men, and my brain doesn't work. 

It's just going to get worse, isn't it?

Wait, don't tell me.