reconciling the hormones #61

So my sedative intake, apart from the antihistamines (which is down to about 1/2 every week), is about the same. And I’m still discerning the difference between a hot flush and a panic fuck … they are so similar it is spooky!

I had an interesting conversation with my Mama whilst we were away … about the menopause situation etc. She was watching Me sweat and quiver and quietly freak out and very nicely asking if I was alright … and then she remembered that she had started having hot flushes when she was in her mid-30s and they were exasperated or brought on when she exerted herself and / or got angry.

I had a super-duper AH-Fucking-HAH moment I tell yah! I could relate perfectly … so I’m hoping that based on those dates / years … I should nearly be done with menopause !!! LOL.

But after this conversation we got onto what a panic attack feels like … signs, symptoms, what brings them on … and hit on something in that jumble fuck.

That if my hormones are doing what they should, but in essence I feel completely out of control of my body … it follows that thats what brings on the panic fuck.

I don’t like being out of control … especially of my … Yes, MY … body, thanks to pts fucking d.  So something else to work on I guess … like I didn’t have enough already pfft!

Anyway … so heres to another week of hormone imbalance-rebalance-apparently all in fucking balance survival!

Cheers Me 🙂

#meme is a cartoon picture of an older biological woman sitting in an arm chair in front of one big ass fan!

Caption reads: When I asked for a smoking hot body, menopause was not quite what I had in mind.


so my love of the rain has been stretched to almost the utmost limit …

“Why?” I hear you friendly fellows and fellowesses ask …” we thought you absolutely whole heartedly loved loved loved the rain! You bleat on enough about it …*insert eyeball roll emoji*”.

Yes well …

It pissed down hardcore last night and I had just enjoyed a few puddles and soaking up the wet goodness … go into our lounge room to get my drink and there is a river of water over flowing from the bottom of our ranch slider doors, into our lounge room.

Ok. Cool. I can deal with this. Towels are down and the water is still pouring in … “calm the farm … and breathe …”

I head off to the bathroom and find the contents of all outlets pipes bubbling up through the shower, the toilet and the bath tub … Ok, calm … still breathing.

I make the call to the property people and get some tart who gets the address wrong who rings a plumber twat who obviously doesn’t want to make a buck and … “ohhh, I can’t do much … ” code for: I can’t be bothered coming out 9 pm on a sunday night!”

So this morning we have flooded carpets in the lounge room, with 3 industrial heaters and a dehumidifier going, drying that shit out.

Guess what?

They sound like two aeroplanes starting up and they’re as hot as fuck!

So I’m trying to calm my feng shui … look at the positive … still looking btw …and in the meantime I’ve set up camp in our back room (usually ‘The Man Cave’). Oh and did I mention the humidity today is 54 with a temp of 24 and rising and the rain is still persisting 🙂 And the old hot flushes are coming fast and thick … 5 so far today … and I’m still sweating like a rapist!

Fun times.

Breathing, breathing …. breathing some more!!!



remember the headphone conundrum???

Hearing sensitivity 101 …

  • when shits loud to you, its super duper loud to Me
  • when shit gets stressful, that super duper loud gets turned up a notch
  • add a sprinkling of menopause, and it goes up a couple more notches
  • place a big fat dollop of anxiety and pts(d) panic fuck on top of that …. and it goes up by another 10 notches.

I think I’ve described it like fingernails on a chalk board, times 100 and that could only slightly compare to the discomfort and anxiety fuck that is a hearing sensitivity.

Add the pts(d) in and it’s like NOT being able to see, hear and speak all in a moment.

I figured noise cancelling headphones would lessen that whole scenario from happening. Awesome!

Fuck off! Turns out the bastards that would work for Me are somewhere north of $800 in price … which is cool … if I had an income!

Sooooo ….

I solved it by my own brown self …

Someone gave Me a pair of sleep phones … which by the way are shit for sleeping in and Do Not, I repeat, Do Not cancel out noise! … So I took those and my trusty run down Sony headphones, sorta kinda combined the 2, doubled the padding in the headphone bit and came out with these beauties.

Now compared to the industrial headgear for mowing lawns in … these work 90% better … in my learned hearing opinion anyways! Once I completely seal the sides I should have myself a nearly 100% sound fucking proof situation going on!!

Fuck I’m Neat 😉

so they say …

theres a time

for everything …

so they say.

so …

whens My time?

peeling it back: one miserable layer at a time

This has been sitting in the ‘to post eventually’ pile and now seems gooder time as any I reckon …

Heres the conundrum …

I note:

  • the anxiety (general and specific – to certain things) has increased incredibly since just before the end of last year
  • therefore, my sedative consumption has also increased

Before 2010 I was reasonably fit, healthy-ish, could socialize and actually enjoy it, could walk for an hour or so by myself and unaided. I also note however:

  • I was always tense as fuck
  • I was always dizzy as fuck
  • Couldn’t hold much food down
  • Couldn’t hold onto any weight

So even though I ‘appeared’ healthy, there were things brewing.

Upon reflection, after being medically discharged from my job in 2010, I am almost certain that what I was having for the 4 years of working there, were increased anxiety and big ass panic attacks. The result of those going undetected and undiagnosed started a long battle with myself, the ‘specialists’ and doctors and their medications and of course an actual diagnosis.

In hindsight, all their ‘diagnoses’ were symptoms and their medications inaccurate.

From 2010 till now I have spent more time incapacitated and bed and house ridden than any other time in my life. I have watched more movies than I can remember and tried more medications than I care to remember. I’ve spent nearly half of that time trying to wean myself off’ve those medications and another space of time recovering from the after effects of those medications.

My muscles are weak. My mind feels weaker than it ever has. My nerves are rattled more times than not. My thoughts are scattered and my guts is in knots.

What has always kept Me going, is My Fight.

So what happens when the Fight feels like it’s being sucked out of Me? What happens when all the movies have been watched? All the ‘alternative treatments’ have been tried? All the reflection and mindfulness is dried up? What happens when all the plans and re plans have been done, re hashed and hashed again? What happens when theres nothing left to photograph and no more stories to tell?

Where the fuck do I pull the ‘Fight’ from when it feels like theres none left?

And then there was this:

I learnt the other day, that the pedo cunt who violated my tiny being; terrorized my tiny world; imbedded fear and mistrust into my tiny little soul; who invaded my tiny body and soul and spirit …

Yeah, well that cunt …

It turns out that he is now old. Obviously.

He doesn’t leave his room.

He stays locked away and doesn’t come out.

Do I feel sorry for him?   …. Nope.

Do I care? …. Nope.

Do I hope he rots away in his own evil for whatever is the rest of his miserable life? …. Yup.

….. Then I Pause …..

….. And it occurs to Me ….

That that cunt … and I … are living pretty much the same existence. And I feel repulsed.


Now try swallowing that one whole.


Thats some serious fuckery that needs to be addressed.




unfucking thyself 101.16




Homai to Aroha



Funny: I was telling a blogging friend yesterday about how awesome Milo and Milk was when I felt anxious or nervous or was just having a shit ass time … and here I am, not 24 hours later with the biggest glass of milk and milo I could muster up.

The recipe for this anxiety reducing concoction is vital:

  • Take the largest glass you can find.
  • Fill it nearly half way up the glass with pure unadulterated Milo
  • Pour onto that, as much full cream milk as your glass will hold
  • Let the Milo settle slightly before putting in a large spoon and stirring gently.
  • Eat and drink the chocolatey goodness.

There you have it. Todays anxiety fuck and it’s remedy.



and yet another reminder:


I don’t do groups.


I don’t do church.

Therefore I don’t do

  • church picnics
  • or ‘gatherings’
  • or retreats
  • or lectures or …

anything else along those lines.

Please ask Me to something I can actually

(want to)



note to self:

get some of those noise cancelling ear muff headphone thingys.



anxiety ‘Me’ tip …

I remember the shrink telling Me that ice or an ice pack or a splash of ice cold water, onto the face, at the onset of an anxiety fuck, will:

a. bring your temp down

b. distract yah

c. subside the anxiety fuck from escalating into a panic fuck

Now of course she described it in more flouncy shrinky language and the above is My interpretation of shrink advice.

I’ve been carting large ice packs around with Me for the last 6 months or so, and out of 10 panic fucks, its reduced maybe 1.5 of them! I Know Right!!

So today I discovered another little sumthin’ sumthin’, that for Me, is better than the above. And whilst pondering on this brilliance of mine, it was duly noted that the generic ‘anxiety helps’ may work for the general population as this is who they do their generalised tests on. But nowhere in my history, has the ‘generalised suggestions’, or medications or advice, ever worked. I usually end up rehashing the shit out of those and figuring out what works for Me.

So … without further ado …

a. Take one ice pack

b. apply to the fucking Feet! Not the Face!.

Thats it.

Anxiety slash panic fuck subsided in like, 15 seconds.

You are fucking welcome! 😉

right …

Ditching the expectations.

Ditching the guilt.

I got this.

(I think)