Guilt about being absent

I've not known how to write about my current state of fatigue and worry aka perimenopause

I process through writing, and often heal by sharing what I have written.

When I can articulate an experience and publish it, I feel less isolated and less ashamed- whether that be about grief, or quitting drinking, or losing weight or getting catfished. But most of the time when I write or publish, it is after I have unclogged the drain in my head.

It is when I think have a solution, or at the very least know where I stand– and because I have been in limbo for the last six months, I’ve barely written or read. Even through everything I’ve experienced; I’ve been generally physically healthy and able to bounce back. My stamina and productivity has always been high, but since becoming an activist, I go into hyper focussed mode and can do twenty interviews for three days straight. I am so used to having tons of energy and going a million miles an hour. But my body has erased that version of me since June.

Perimenopause has kicked my arse in every way possible and left me laying at the side of the road, both metaphorically and physically. But if I wait till this is sorted, I may not write again for the next seven years. At a Women in Comms breakfast where Aceil Haddad interviewed me on Thursday I spoke about how lost and confused I have been because of perimenopause and furious at the lack of research into women’s health.

Because there hasn’t been a light at the end of this tunnel, it feels premature to share how incapacitated I have felt over the last six months. My specific combination of very low blood pressure, severe Raynaud’s and a hormonal shift has resulted in being dizzy constantly and fainting a number of times since November. My independence and stability has been questionable.

After collapsing during a keynote speech in November, there was worry that I had had a cardiac incident or a stroke. I have basically only gone out to go to the doctors. I have had to stop running. There have been weeks where I am too exhausted to walk Smalls. I rarely left my flat in November and missed the entire Christmas season. I’ve now reduced the number of days I am working and adjusted my HRT and rheumatology meds; fingers crossed that this iteration of treatment will work better than the last.

I need to stop constantly comparing this version of myself to who I was last year. I missed most of the Penn State football season and most of the Eagles games. I missed birthdays. I missed lot of work. And no amount of sleep was enough. But admitting I need to make adjustments, making less plans and stopping running for now hopefully will allow me to reset and gain stamina again.

Running away to Padstow for two weeks over Christmas to do nothing but recuperate and walk Smalls was brilliant and kind to my body and brain.

I am lucky that I can reduce my hours. I am lucky that my bailing on just about everything only really effects Smalls’ Regents Park time and no one is depending on me for breakfast, dinner or to get them to football games. Allowing myself the time to develop a slower lifestyle and being honest with myself about what is the new version of my schedule and capabilities.

So rather than commit to a weekly schedule posting (which is what I want to do), I am going to work on writing through this hazy uncomfortable limbo, where I’ve not sorted anything out, I have no big lessons, but am surviving if not thriving.