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.


argue …

you know what …

i don’t think

i have anything

to add to this




thats a new place

For Me.








An Anomaly.

So defined as:


An anomaly is an abnormality, a blip on the screen of life that doesn’t fit with the rest of the pattern. If you are a breeder of black dogs and one puppy comes out pink, that puppy is an anomaly.

So, thats Me.

An anomaly.

And quite happy

at present,

with all of that.

ae … remember

remember …

the little things.

every little



that marks



unfucking thyself 101.46




Homai to Aroha



My Mama gave Me this little beauty when we moved here. It says it all really.

We moved here (next to the beach) so I could hear the waves … smell the salt air … and when I got a bit better-er … swim in the ocean.

Thats happened … happening … slowly but surely. We’ve been here nearly 4 years and sometimes I forget the shit-fucked state I was in when we first arrived here. And I was like it all the time! Shaking … panicy … couldn’t get out the front door during the day, let alone the clothesline or the letterbox … couldn’t ride in the front seat of the car … couldn’t talk on the phone …

On some days I have long moments of all these things, as they raise their ugly heads again and kick Me in the Vag … I can almost hear them laugh at Me … saying “Hey bitch remember Us”.

Yeah I remember.

I remember how far I’ve come and that I am Not as fucked us I used to be 😉


Our little town has been awesome to live in … aside from the obvious … The Beach … its usually pretty quiet. Every town has it’s ups and downs, and this place is no different, but overall it’s small and quiet … just like I like it.

I’ve loved being here … it’s been way more ‘healing’ (believe it or not …) than virtually anything else I’ve tried.

I guess you don’t realise how noisy and busy everything around us is until you take it all away. It’s so quiet out here at  night, you could literally hear a pin drop. And dark! Theres hardly any street lights so you can see the stars at night … bright as!

Can you feel the downside coming?


Something we didn’t realise when we moved here, is because it’s a ‘holiday’ town, as in, cunts from miles around, come here to get away from all the aforementioned noise and pollution and lights, 3 to 4 times a year. They come, they take over, leave their rubbish and piss off again. That I can manage … sort of.

The down, down side, is the property vultures. Houses go up for sale and are sold like hotcakes round here. Apparently is wasn’t always like this, because holiday homes (very small, modest houses) were family owned and whole families would come once a year, enjoy themselves, their neighbours, their surroundings.

Now they’re building big ass mansions along the shorelines, where they’re bound to get swept away first if there was ever a storm big enough. Property developers and are knocking shit down, carving shit up and selling shit off.

Why my angst?

As renters, with a good history of renting … none of that means shit here! In town property owners usually want long term tenants that are going to look after their rentals. Here, you’d be lucky to find a house that is permanent for more than 2 years.

Which brings Me to this:

Today we have a property appraiser coming through our rental to take photos. First sign of the house going on the market.

It seems that our landlord, who has been lovely, has gotten abit spooked by the housing shift that is happening at the moment and is thinking about selling this place to pay off the mortgage on his other place.

I would too if it was mine.

But where does that leave Us?

The same position we were in 2 1/2 years ago.

There is nothing to rent out here at the moment, and while I am quietly freaking out, at least I don’t feel as crap as when it happened last time. We got this place about 5 days before we were due to leave our other place. That was some freaky deaky shit!

I haven’t quite gotten to the place where I can say: Oh this is exciting … a new adventure!

But I’m working on it ❤

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!!!


so they say …

theres a time

for everything …

so they say.

so …

whens My time?

just thinking …

The previous post was one I did a couple of years ago. Yes, I do talk to myself like that …. A Lot. I can be hard on myself but I give myself the biggest reality check than anyone else could give Me.

I’m a processor and an analyst. It’s what I do.

Some of that has ‘minimised’ slightly, but all in all, I can analyse the shit out shit that doesn’t even know it needs analysing 😉

Back to Me though …

The conversation I had with myself regarding not going back for that little girl that got left behind, got Me thinking about … well about, how do you let that go?

How do you let go the profound disappointment with yourself, that you let yourself down and left yourself alone, to figuratively die.

I know it was a survival strategy, but like ‘soldiers remorse’, I am left wondering, why I am here … and she is not.

All the things she could have been if she had been given half or even quarter of a chance.

And as I look around at the #MeToo conversations that are flying at present … I wonder …

What happens when all those #MeToo’s figure let go too. What happens when they all forgive themselves for not being what they thought they should be.

The reality is, I could not have done anything different. I know that now.

But the damage that picking yourself to pieces does … is immense.

The damage that living a life on edge does … is immense.

I guess thats what I’m working out … daily. The art of unfucking myself is harder some days than others.

Some days, I catch a glimpse of the little girl that was … the little survivor that knew how to minimise the damage done to herself both physically and mentally and spiritually. The little survivor that ended up giving up her life so I could have Mine.

Wondering, ‘what if’ is useless … it only messes with the head even more.

Hoping that she’s looking on … cheering Me on … somewhere in a peaceful place … well that is a nice thought ❤